


What the Hell, Harry!

by Laurie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I guess I felt I was Tarantino, M/M, Romance, Sorry for swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2710925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurie/pseuds/Laurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, Dean and Sam stumble over a mini-werewolf and then two strange guys with some wooden sticks in their hands. Chaos ensues, along with fun, friendship and maybe even something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolves and what-the-hells

**Author's Note:**

> So, after months of not doing anything interesting in particular, I've somehow picked up on Supernatural, which has now become my very, very guilty pleasure. But, anyway, what is done, done, and what is more than one hundred episodes of ridiculous plot is watched, more than one time, what the hell. And since the next episode is about half a month ahead, I've decided to start another thing and I'm almost sure I will abandon some time in the future because I don't learn from my own mistakes…  
> Anyway, here's a Supernatural/Harry Potter crossover fanfic for you, cuz I haven't found the one that would appeal to my interests do instead I began to write one myself. It's gonna be a medium sized multi-chaptered story with the Dean/Harry line as a slash pairing, caz I really wanted to have these two characters main focus here. Warning: this story's going to be slash, so if it's not your cup of tea, you better leave now than later. I tried my best to make all the characters as in-character as possible, so I hope I wouldn't get a lot of indignant complaints on this behalf.  
> Also, this story takes place during sixth season of Supernatural so spoilers for every episode that has come out, including 6x16. As for Harry Potter, takes place thirteen years after the final chapter, with complete ignoring of the Epilogue. You can say, AU after the Battle of Hogwarts chapter. So in this story Harry is 31, Dean is 32. Bear with my timeline, guys :)

_Wolves and what-the-fucks_

They had been passing Nebraska and it was about four am, when Sam really, like  _really_ , needed to stop for his natural needs so Dean grudgingly (because, seriously, does Sam have a bladder of a five-year-old?) pulled over, and they just so happened to be driving on the road through the woods, so what harm could that be?

"I think I heard something, man," Sam said as soon as he walked out from behind a tree where he'd been relieving himself.

"Yeah, me, too." Dean said. "That was a sound of my hair turning grey while I was waiting for you, princess"

He didn't need to look at Sam to know his brother was wearing his bitch-face expression.

"Aren't you hilarious" Sam said, Bitch-face still firmly in place, "Seriously, though, Dean, I think I heard some noises deeper in the woods, like some animal, a very  _big_  one, was moving around."

"So what? A bear or a deer or no-one-cares what else. What's the big news?"

"Dean," Sam said in a voice that meant fucking business. "I know what I'm talking about, there must be so –"

And then Dean heard it, too.

And it had suddenly been very close. Like, too close, just behind Sam's back –

"Sam!" He yelled, but it was too late, an animal the size of a small bear had brought him down and though Dean hadn't caught more than a glimpse of this thing, he knew for sure it was a werewolf.

He was been lucky he'd been standing by the car, so he quickly opened the trunk door and grabbed the silver bullets. He didn't have time to load his gun, though, as the werewolf threw him on the down and pinned him to the ground, its sharp teeth bared, growling loudly. The hideous smell from its mouth hit Dean's nostrils and he coughed.

The werewolf didn't have time to bite him, though, as it was hit on the head with a large bough by Sam, who'd gotten from the ground. It wasn't enough to kill the beast or even stop, but it was enough for Dean to grab and load his gun and point it at the monster.

Seconds before he pulled the trigger, a voice, somewhere from his right, shouted:

" _Expeliarmus!_ "

And the gun suddenly shot out of Dean's hand as if some invisible power threw it out. He turned around sharply and saw two men standing in the middle of the road, their hands outstretched, pointing something at him and Sam, something like  _sticks_.

One of the men pointed the stick at the werewolf and said ' _Stupefy_ ', and the beast fell on the ground immediately, unmoving and looking dead.

Then he caught movement with a corner of his eye and saw Sam draw out his gun quickly, moving on reflexes he had so wonderfully developed, and point it at the werewolf. Before he could fire, though, his gun, much like Dean's own, flew out of his hand.

"Don't shoot, he's not dangerous anymore!" One of the men said and they both lowered their sticks. He spoke with a very distinct British accent "I immobilized him, he can't move"

Dean just stared at them, too shocked to actually come out with something.

"I will now give you your guns back, but you've got to promise not to soot, okay?" The same man said and only then did Dean notice that both his and Sam's guns were in the man's hands.

His ability to speak suddenly returned to him.

"Who the fuck are you?" He demanded, not too politely, but now was not the time for it. Those two must be demons or possibly even something worse, and how did they manage to disarm them like that? They must be something pretty dark.

Quickly, he counted the steps he had to take to get to the trunk where more guns were and the salt and maybe they were not so screwed yet –

He heard the trunk door snap shit suddenly and there was the sound of locking. He turned back and saw another guy holding his stick pointed at the Impala. He swallowed, angry at their helplessness, unable to do anything.

"Hey, we're absolutely calm, guys, really, you can give us back our guns, seriously" He heard Sam say and looked at him. Sam stood to his left, his left arm bleeding and there was a thin trickle of dried blood going down his cheek. His brother, though, ever the diplomat, did look absolutely calm, his hands sprayed in front of him in sign of defenselessness.

Dean grit his jaw. Whatever Sam was trying to achieve, he hoped it would work.

"I don't really think it's a good idea to give them back these god-awful shooting things, Harry" The guy without their guns said. "I'm sure they will try to shoot us"

He looked closer at the men. One of them was really tall, probably Sam's level tall, and redheaded, with his hair a kind of fiery red Dean had never seen before. The other one, obviously called Harry, was probably few inches shorter than Dean, had black hair and kind of ridiculous round glasses. Both of them looked about thirty.

"Well, I wouldn't really blame them, Ron" Harry said, shooting him and Sam apologetic smile. Dean glared at him, angry at himself, these men, this fucking screwed situation they had managed to get themselves into, at  _Sam_ , because, really, the man twenty-eight – it was high time he learnt not to drink too much while  _on the fucking road_!

" _Who the fuck are you_?" Dean repeated, this time loudly and boldly, using his commanding tone he usually addressed Sam with. The tall redhead –  _Ron_  – quirked an eyebrow at him, obviously not impressed at the slightest.

"I really wouldn't use this tone if I were in your shoes, mate" He said, his lips stretching in a sly smirk. He flipped his stick rather pointedly and Dean didn't need to be a Stanford graduate to realize that these sticks were the source of the men's power. "You don't usually want to piss off the guys your life depends on"

" _Ron!_ " Harry railed at him, scandalized, then turned back to look at him and Sam. Then he cautiously took a step closer. "Look, guys, we don't want any problems with you, so I'll give you your guns back if you promise to keep cool, alright?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. This was the best option so far – at least they would have their guns back and Dean really,  _really_ , needed to feel a bit more in control of the situation. Standing there, absolutely defenseless in front of these men who obviously had a huge disadvantage over them were rather unnerving.

Sam nodded readily, his innocent-puppy-eyed look firmly on his face. It was almost physically impossible for Dean not to roll his eyes at him, but he managed. They needed to concentrate on getting themselves out of this mess, no matter how sincere that Harry-person looked.

The other one, Ron, didn't, though. He also took a step back and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, the other hand clutching his stick.

"Harry, mate, you know the rules, right? We have to oblivate these Muggles, you know that"

"I know, Ron, but –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a sec!" Dean snapped, sick of not getting what the hell was going on around him. "Speak English, please, what the hell do you wanna do to us? And, in case you've forgotten, there's an unconscious werewolf lying right fucking next to me that needs to be  _fucking killed_  –"

"You touch him and I'll end you," The redhead hissed, glaring a hole in Dean and he suddenly looked much more intimidating than a minute before, waves of rage and danger radiating from him and Dean involuntary broke the gaze.

"Ron," Harry said again, sounding drained, "Please, look at it from their point of view. Just try to understand, please. They are just Muggles and they deserve an explanation. And I don't even mention the fact that Teddy has nearly bitten them or worse –  _killed_  them, and thank god they were lucky enough to be able to defend themselves, so I'd like it if you showed some compassion, huh?"

" _An_   _explanation,_ Harry,  _really_?" Ron said as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So what now, are you gonna sit with them and tell everything about us and give them a lecture about magical creatures and what's right and wrong and maybe hold their hands then, while all your words are sinking in, huh? They almost  _killed Teddy_ , Harry!"

"Well, he did attack them first, Ron!"

"Still, they have no bloody right –"

" _Ron!_ " Harry cut him off and this time he sounded loud and clear and Dean though he could feel the hair on his arms standing with goose bumps at the sheer power that was coming in waves from the shorter man. He suddenly looked much older than just before; his jaw tightened firmly, hands twisted in fists. He was staring at Ron through his glasses, his gaze not wavering for a second, and Ron swallowed and looked away, defeated.

"Fine" He mumbled, his hand with a stick lowering, though he still managed to shoot Dean and Sam dirty looks behind Harry's back. Judging by the way Harry rolled his eyes and made a Sam-worthy bitch-face, he noticed it just fine.

"So," He began suddenly hesitant and unsure. It was such a radical change of mood for a man who looked about as confident and powerful as fucking Lucifer himself one minute and didn't know how to begin a second the next, and Dean frowned at him. "We shall probably begin with names. My name is Harry Potter and the grumpy guy back there is Ron Weasley."

Ron grunted in acknowledgment from behind him, and Harry paused, apparently waiting for them to say their own names, but they kept silent. Harry sighed wearily, and then continued.

"This werewolf you've nearly killed is actually a little boy, his name is Teddy and he's thirteen. He has parents and goes to school, basically, lives a normal life just like any other kid his age. The only difference being that his father was a werewolf and apparently it can be passed on to your children, so Teddy has pretty much been infected the moment he was conceived." Harry paused to take a deep breath. "Once a month before he turns he drinks a potion that allows him not to lose his human mind during his turns and therefore he is in complete control of his body, he just locks himself in a room and sits there quietly until the full moon passes, so he can't hurt anyone accidentally."

"Then…" Sam spoke up, now sounding both confused and curious. "How did he end up here, nearly ripping me and Dean to pieces?"

Harry's expression turned into a grimace. He sighed wearily, putting off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"We… we had a fight. A huge one, apparently, and we don't normally have any fights but that… was a sore subject for both of us. And he… ran off, all in tears, forgot to take his potion, and he must have apparated because he was all emotional and his uncontrollable magic must have kicked in… I have no idea how he managed to get himself in America, across the ocean, without splinching himself, but he's being tracked, he's out of school now, and he's a werewolf so they keep a special eye on him –"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean cut him off, stopping the flood of babbling, as soon as his words sunk in. Uncontrollable magic? Appar-whatever? "Are you saying you are a  _witch_?"

There was a moment of silence and then Ron promptly cracked up. Harry also chuckled quietly, as if Dean said something exceptionally stupid and hilarious. Dean scowled at them.

"Oh, Merlin, I love Muggles" Ron said, grinning widely. "I don't think anybody has ever called me a witch before!"

"Me neither" Harry said, his small tired smiled still on his face. "No, we are not  _witches_ , guys, those are females you're talking about. We are  _wizards_ "

"So I assume those are wands?" Sam immediately said, eyeing the sticks in the men's hands tentatively.

Harry nodded. "Yes, but don't be afraid I won't do anything to you if you don't try to kill us, either. I won't try to assault you"

" _Yet_ " Ron added quietly behind Harry's shoulder. Harry rolled his eyes again.

"Hey, don't listen to him, he doesn't know what it's like to be a Muggle. I do, though"

He spoke sincerely and plainly and Dean couldn't find it in himself not to believe him, against his better judgment. The guy just had something in him, some power or whatever that had people around him, people who barely knew him, automatically like him.

Dean shook his head. Those kinds of thoughts were never good. As a rule they led to him or Sam (or both) being held hostages or nearly killed.

"So, I'm now giving you your guns back, ok?" Harry said, before approaching them and handing first Sam then Dean their guns. With a familiar pleasant weight back in his hand, Dean immediately felt better, safe and reassured. Harry stepped back, his hands lowered, but wand still clutched firmly in his hand, careful if Dean or Sam would suddenly decide to attack them. Out of blue, Dean felt offended for some reason, having these guy think he might just up and kill them after they willingly handed them their weapons. An urge suddenly appeared to prove them wrong, so Dean tried to relax his tensed shoulders a bit and said as friendly as he could master:

"Ok, so you are wizards, whatever, and the mini-werewolf over there is your kid, right?"

Harry looked him in the eye. "Yeah," he said cautiously, now warily eyeing the gun in his hand.

"Ok" he said, nodding, lowering his gun as well, though not relaxing his grip on it. His Dad taught him better than that.

Come to think of it, his Dad taught him better than to  _talk_  with any kind of witches  _at all_ , so he guessed they had already stepped over that line. With Ron, frowning at them, he took a tiny step forward and said: "So I'm Dean and the Ginormo there is my brother Sam"

Almost immediately, Ron's and Harry's faces took identical expressions of disbelief.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ron said, gaping. "Sam and Dean? As in, Sam and Dean  _Winchesters?_ "

"The hunters?" Harry exclaimed, gaping as well.

"Um, yeah" Sam said, sharing an unsure glance with Dean. "We are"

"The ones and only" Dean confirmed, his back tense again, ready to jump into fighting any second now.

"Shit!" Harry exclaimed, quickly turning back to Ron. "They are actually the Winchesters, Ron!"

"I know, mate, I was here!"

"What are we gonna do, now, shit, Ron, the Ministry will be here any second now!"

"We are gonna hand them to the Ministry and let them handle the hunters, Harry! Not that we have much of a choice here, mate!"

"Ron, we don't know what they are going to do to them!"

"And why in Merlin's name do you even care, Harry?"

"Wait!" Sam suddenly growled and all the eyes turned to him. "Are you telling us there is some sort of agency coming for us for whatever we have done to book us and do some god-awful shit to us?"

"For  _whatever you have done?_ " Ron repeated incredulously. "As if you don't bloody know what!"

"Ron, later!" Harry also growled, switching to his powerful intimidating mode. Dean actually took a step back at that.

Harry turned to him again. "Look, I do –"

He was cut off as suddenly a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wearing, what appeared to be strange black robes, a wand in his hand. Harry shut up and Ron groaned behind his back, his hand covering his face.

The new man looked bored before he glanced at Harry and Ron and his eyes widened almost comically.

"Um, Mister Potter, sir, good to meet you, uh, and you too, mister Weasley!" He stammered, his gaze switching from Harry to Ron quickly. He sounded like a fan that has just ran into his beloved idol. "I, uh, wasn't told that  _you_  were here, uh, there was just, ah, violation of the Status of Secrecy detected along with the magic of the under-aged wizard out of Hogwarts school area, and I was sent here to, uh, deal with it…" He trailed off, helplessly, his eyes wide and he looked about eighteen years old now.

"What is your name?" Harry asked him, his voice saying 'no shitting with me, boy', and the kid looked like he was about to wet himself.

"Justin Travis, sir, Mister Harry Potter, sir" he said, looking scared and ready to burst into tears. "I'm just new to this all, ah, job of mine, you see, sir, I'm just an intern, but there will be others sent here in a minute or so to check up on whether everything is going alright –"

"Shit, Harry, are you happy? They are gonna send the whole Auror Office on us now, as soon as they find out who  _they_  are" He pointed an accusing finger at Dean and Sam and they exchanged another confused look. Dean felt more and more helpless with each second, the comprehension of what's going on around him completely slipping away, replaced with a whole new level of weird shit he couldn't even begin to understand. The only thing he did get was that he and his brother were in some kind of serious shit (surprise, surprise)  _again_ , worsened by the fact he didn't really know what this shit was, really. In his mind though, he seemed to have subconsciously defined Harry as the 'good guy' versus everyone else present.

Ron didn't get to finish his accusing rambling because, just like that Justin guy a minute before, two more men appeared out of thin air, also wearing these ridiculous clothes, but looking far more serious than this intern kid.

Then everything happened too fast for Dean to process. Harry moved with a speed of lightening: shooting the hand with his wand forward he pointed at one of the new guys and a red light shot out of the tip of his wand and hit a man in the chest. The man collapsed on the ground, unmoving, not even having a chance to react.

The second guy, though, was obviously trained well because his wand shot in the air almost as fast as Harry's, making a blue light shoot out of it. It missed Harry by an inch and Dean's reflexes hit him suddenly, screaming ' _danger_ ' at him and he nearly jumped at Sam, making them both hit the ground, out of the fighting zone.

He saw Ron gape for about three seconds before finally jumping into action and also pointing his wand at the guy. A purple light flashed out of his wand, barely missing a guy in the robes, but then Harry, taking advantage of the man's distraction towards Ron, muttered something under his breath and a red light hit the guy in the arm, making him collapse on the ground, immobilized, just like the first one.

Justin, who was standing, frozen in his place, squeaked, his eyes even wider than before, and Ron's wand hit him with a flash of pale blue light. The kid fell on the ground, his eyes shutting close.

Silence filled the air, only interrupted by Harry's and Ron's heavy breathing. They lowered their wands slowly, looking at each other, before Ron yelled:

"What the  _bloody hell_  have we just done, Harry?"

"Well, we appear to have attacked the Ministry," came the almost calm reply.

"I know that, I was right bloody here, knocking out the bloody Aurors!"

"Ron, please, can we not have your freak-out right now,  _please?_ " Harry begged, tired and almost sad, and Ron's eyes widened more.

"Harry, we have just  _assaulted_  the  _Ministry!_  I'm fucking allowed to have a freak-out! What-the-fuck-ever have we done that for, huh? Care to tell me?"

"Ron, calm, down –"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down!"

"Ok," said Harry amiably, "but, seriously, mate, you've got to postpone your little freak-out until later, after we decide what we do now"

His voice sounded calm and reasonable and Dean found himself slowly relaxing again, even though he still didn't understand one fucking bit.

"Have you killed those guys?" Dean blurted out, dreading the answer for a reason he didn't really like to think of, because 'disappointed in Harry' was kind of weird even for him. And not good-weird, but really  _bad_ -weird, that is.

Harry paused and looked at him with some kind of surprise, like he has forgotten they were still there. He sighed again, shaking his head.

"No," he said. "We just knocked them out" Then he looked Dean straight in the eye "We are not killers, Dean"

For some reason, clearly unknown to himself, Dean wanted to believe him.

"Try doing some other shit with me, including attacking Aurors and I will go all very killer on your arse, Harry!" Ron hissed.

"Ron, shut the bloody hell up!" Harry finally snapped at him. "Thank you for helping me, really, but you've got to shut up about it sometime this century! I'm the head of Auror Office, Ron, so believe me no one will be sent here until I say so. And no one will certainly move their asses without my direct order. All I need now is to deal with this three guys over there"

"You are so bloody daft, Harry" said Ron with a long-suffering sigh, but he moved closer and gave the three bodies on the ground. He eyed them critically. "So wha –"

He didn't finish because there was a moan and then some movement on the ground near the Impala, and Dean gripped his gun hard again, in case the werewolf came to and was ready to attack them again. He froze, though, on seeing a naked boy lying on the ground, blinking sleepily, disoriented and confused. His eyes widened as he spotted Harry, who shot to him immediately, scrunching on the ground beside him, and wrapped the boy in the coat he'd been wearing.

"God, Teddy," he breathed out, eyes closing with relief, his arms going around the boy. The boy was scrawny and lanky, had the kind of hair exactly the same as Harry – black and unruly, and his eyes were same strikingly green. Dean narrowed his eyes at them, thinking over the fact that Harry had said the kid's father was a werewolf but the kid looked like the exact copy of Harry, like a son who took after his Dad way more than after his Mom, and did that mean that Harry was that Daddy-werewolf? But he would've turned, too, right, that was full moon, he would have surely turn, you can't just skip full moon if you're a werewolf, right?

"Never,  _ever_ , do that again, Teddy, you hear me?  _Never_ " Harry was saying quietly and seriously, sounding pained. "I nearly had a heart attack when I couldn't find you in the house. You have no idea what could have happened, to you or to anyone else!"

The kid finally seemed to notice that Dean and Sam were here as well and his eyes widened a bit when he saw them. Then he paled, his face turning absolutely white, as his gaze stopped at Sam's arm, spotting blood.

"Oh God," the kid whispered, panicked. "Did I… I didn't, did I? Harry, did I, did I…  _bite_  anyone?"

"No, Teddy," Harry said and his voice took an angry tone to it. "Thank god, no, no thanks to you, though. Had we arrived five seconds later –"

" _Harry_ ," Ron cut him off, softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Harry stood up, his face unreadable, like a stony mask, and the kid swallowed loudly.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry, oh God, I can't say enough times how sorry I am, Harry!" His eyes turned back to Sam, "I'm sorry, sir, God, I swear, I didn't mean to, I didn't, I forgot my Wolfsbane, sir, I didn't mean to –"

"It's ok," Sam said, his voice both shocked and reassuring.  _Right_ , Dean thought.  _Ok, my ass._  They had nearly killed the kid, not without the kid attacking them first with intention to rip them into pieces, but still. Even for them, this was certainly not ok.

"We'll talk about it at home," Harry commanded, using, what Dean assumed was, his angry-Dad voice. Teddy swallowed again, before looking away guiltily, still unable to meet Harry's or Sam's eyes.

"Ron," said Harry, turning to the tall redhead. "Take Teddy home please, will you? And it would be great if you took him straight to bed, ok? Then come back here because I need your help with this" he gestured around vaguely, signalizing 'this'. "Just make sure he's in bed before leaving, ok?"

"You better stay in bed if you wanna leave your room in the next ten years, young man" Ron said, his voice also switching to some kind of your-father-is-very-disappointed tone. Teddy nodded frantically, tears running down his cheeks. "Yes, Uncle Ron"

"Good" said Ron, then came to the kid and lifted him in his arms like he weighted nothing at all. "See you in ten, Harry" he said.

And before Dean could wonder how in hell he was going to make it in ten fucking minutes, Ron turned on his heels and disappeared with a quiet  _pop_ , leaving the three of them standing in the middle of the road, alight by the street lights and the Impala.

In the silence that followed, Harry suddenly exhaled, loudly and slowly, like he was holding his breath for a really long time. His eyes were tightly shut and his hand went up to cover his face. Dean could see the tense line of his back and shoulders, and without really thinking about it he said:

"Hey, it's ok, your kid's alright, isn't he?"

He caught an incredulous look Sam shot it him and ignored it. He just understood Harry perfectly well, better than Sam ever could. He could imagine what kind of shit he will have to go though if anything happened to Ben, what he will feel if Ben was in danger, away from him, having two guys on his heels trying to kill him and nearly succeeding. Ben might not turn into a monster once a month but he did get the general idea.

But that was all the comfort he was going to get from Dean, considering that Harry's kid was trying to kill him and his brother and the fact that Harry was a witch –  _wizard_ , whatever. Dean did have his boundaries that he was not going to step over.

Harry laughed shakily, but the sound was as far from humorous as he could possibly get. He reached in the pocket of his jeans and took out a pack of cigarettes. Dean's brows shot up. Somehow, he couldn't imagine Harry smoking, the image just didn't… fit, like, Harry didn't really seem the type.

Also, it was kind of weird to be a witness of this guy knocking out a werewolf then having a magical fight on  _wands_ , no less, and then just doing something so dull and ordinary as smoking a simple fag.

Harry put one in his mouth, then lit it up with a lighter, his hands seemingly moving of their own accord, practiced, like hands of a long-time smoker. He looked at Sam then Dean inquisitively, asking "You mind?"

"It's ok" Sam said and Dean just shook his head, thinking it probably wouldn't have stopped Harry if they mind. He looked at the three unmoving bodies on the ground, that might as well have been having a neon sign above them, saying 'We minded what Harry was doing, now look at us'.

"Well?" He said instead, coming to the back of the Impala and leaning on the trunk door. Sam automatically copied his movement and now they stood facing Harry.

"Hm?" said Harry, blowing out smoke through his nose.

"Care to tell us what the hell is going on? I feel like I've asked this question million times already this night!"

"Yeah, right, the explanation" Harry murmured, shooting them small apologetic smile. "Sorry, with all that…" he gestured at the three men on the ground, "I kind of forgot"

"So, we have ten minutes before your friend is comes back so you could start talking"

"Right" Harry said with a tiny bare noticeable smirk that told Dean, that Harry was secretly mused be the fact he was being commanded around. Like he could talk or not talk, but he choose to do so himself, not because Dean said so. A smirk that said he could screw them with wave of his fucking wand and doing some hocus-pocus but he, nevertheless, decided to indulge them. Dean sighed.

Harry took one last drag of his cigarette and tossed it out, before reaching in is pocket and taking the second one. Dean rolled his eyes – Harry was a chain-smoker, too, wonderful.

Harry lit his fag, took a deep drag and began his story with the air of a professional storyteller around him, like he was about to tell a bunch of kids the Cinderella story for the millionth time.

"So, there was this Dark Wizard…"

***SPN/HP***


	2. Spectacular Ideas

"So, let me get this straight," Dean said as soon as Harry finished with his little lecture about the history of Wizarding world. "You're saying that there was this ugly son of a bitch, who wanted to rule the world and clean it like fucking Hitler, and there was a guy who managed to stop him and now the asshole is dead, right?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, "As dead as one can get"

"Whatever that means," Sam muttered and then spoke:

"And there is also, like, a whole Magic world existing, like, _always_ , with its own schools and shops and banks and even a Ministry!"

"Yeah, that's correct," Harry smiled at him indulgently, like he was greatly amused.

"So what, these Aurors you're talking about – they are like our cops only with some powerful mojo?" Dean asked him.

"Yes. And I'm the head of it's office," Harry confirmed, blowing out the smoke of his nth cigarette. Dean lost count after the fourth.

"But you attacked those guys! You must be in serious trouble now!" Sam exclaimed.

"Yes, Sherlock, you are indeed very smart," Harry said, his smirk growing bigger. Sam's face flashed with a Bitch-Face for about a second, as if he couldn't decide whether to go for pissed or curious, then finally went for the latter.

"Wait, I'm a bit nervous about this dark Lord Asshole guy, you couldn't kill him for more than twenty years, you sure this guy actually ended him?" Dean asked Harry, not sure if he can seriously believe all this crap. It was just too much for a normal person to be expected to understand and believe for a week, not even speaking of an hour. And, sure, of course, Dean never considered himself or Sam _normal_ , but comparing to these people? They were about _dull_ , for the lack of better word. And they even knew about the existence of supernatural. Dean couldn't imagine how a sane ordinary person would react to the same events he had witnessed this day.

At his question Harry's eyes darkened and his whole posture changed, subtly. He looked a bit older, a bit sadder and that annoying smirk fell from his face, along with merry glint in his eyes. Dean found he didn't really like that change.

"Yes, I'm sure" Harry said, and his voice had also changed. He sounded graver, more serious. There was something almost… bittersweet about him now. "This guy gave away too much for that to happen, he definitely made certain Voldemort was gone for good."

His tone said that was the end of discussion concerning this Voldy-something guy, and Dean let it go, seeing it was difficult for Harry to talk about. Besides, he wanted that twinkling in Harry's eyes back, so got to change the subject –

Wait, _what?_

Since when he had thoughts like that, huh? Not that it mattered whether or not this Harry-person had some fucking _twinkling_ in his eyes, what the hell.

He shook his head, as if he could make the thoughts fly out of his ears if he shook hard enough.

"Ok, but that doesn't explain how we have to do anything with it," Sam said the thing that had been ignored this far. What could they have possibly done to get a reaction like this from both Harry and Ron. And come to think of it, Ron was kinda expecting them to know, he was accusing them and expecting them to be guilty and admit to something. Well, let's hear what Mr. Wizard had to say.

"Well, it's sort of complicated, guys" Harry said, shaking his head a little, as if disapproving, his lips tight. "You, ah, got into the Wanted list, like, a year ago. Maybe a bit earlier, I don't know for sure. But you are wanted in both British and American Wizarding communities, the latter one even offered twenty thousand galleon prize for both of you alive."

"Galleon?" Dean asked absently, the information sinking in slowly, like there was fog in his mind, making it difficult for him to concentrate.

"Yeah, our money currency, like two point eight dollars in one galleon"

"That's about fifty six thousand dollars!" Sam gasped, and Dean wondered if he had still some Robo-brain left for him to count so fast. Harry seemed surprised, too, though he didn't comment on it.

"What the hell have we done to deserve such special attention?" Dean said, a little bit nervous, suddenly, to hear the answer.

Harry's eyes grew hard again. Dean looked away involuntarily.

"You killed three werewolves that were under the effect of Wolfsbane potion, you killed a magic salamandra that is becoming extinct, you killed four witches that were former patients of St. Mungo hospital. They were delusional. And a lot of others I don'r really want to know," He added quietly, his voice calm and steady but Dean still thought he heard a note of accusation in it. "You are considered dangerous for our society. A threat. Besides you're Muggles. No matter what parties we take part in, what social revolutions we have, nothing can change the Wizards' dislike towards Muggles. They've hated each other for centures, of course ten years is too little to expect anything. That, and the fact that you just killed a lot of people and creatures of our world."

He flushed. "Well, its not like they didn't attack us first. They were killing other people!"

"The werewolves didn't" Harry said firmly. "You came across them in Ohio, while researching for some other business of yours and they were locked in a motel room from the inside, but you heard strange noises and drew your conclusions. They didn't even try to attack you, they can't have, but you just killed them anyway"

Dean froze, because he did remember that. He and Sam were working on a case and just happened to pass a motel room when he heard some strangled moans behind a closed door. When no one answered they broke in and on seeing three fucking large werewolves he shot them all, without having to fight for his life, not giving them a chance to attack.

Now, though, he realized they weren't even _going_ to attack. They were just some guys waiting for their shit to pass; who locked themselves in the room and just waited quietly not to hurt anybody, and Dean just came in and killed them, just like that.

As if he weren't already feeling last absolute shit, Harry added: "They were two brothers and their sister. Their were killed during the War, attacked by werewolves, but the kids survived, they were just bitten. They immigrated to America after that, started a normal life."

It was the way he said it, ' _just_ bitten', as if it was nothing, nothing to worry about at all, as if people could treat it like a simple flu. Like it was a problem, yes, but nothing too serious, nothing he couldn't fight and overcome with a help of some magic potion of theirs.

Dean kept silent, trying to swallow past the cotton ball in his throat, his eyes suddenly stinging. He couldn't look Harry in the eyes even if he tried.

"It's… understandable, though" Harry finally said after long, agonizing silence. "For me at least, since I've lived like a Muggle for the first eleven years of my life and I know what attitude you have towards monsters, I treated them the same before I found out I had magic in me."

Still, it wasn't enough, it wasn't right. Dean has just found out he had killed three innocent people for no reason, other then them being werewolves which wasn't even considered that much of a problem for those people. And who knows how many other people. How was he supposed to feel now?

He looked at Sam, seeing his brother looked probably worse than he felt. He wondered how Sam felt about this, since, as Dean remembered, he wasn't too happy with killing the werewolves even then.

He thought about Madison. God, if they had only known back then –

"Dean," Harry said gently and Dean risked looking him, His eyes were much softer than a minute before. "It's ok. You didn't know."

"No it's not ok" Dean said, his voice suddenly hoarse. "It's not ok"

"Listen, the only werewolves you have a history of knowing were the ones that didn't take their potion accidently, didn't know of it or just chose not to. Whatever any of these options were, Dean, and I want you to listen to me here: _it wasn't your fault_ "

Dean swallowed, now unable to look away from Harry's eyes even if he tried. They were warm, understanding and reassuring, and Dean wanted to look at him just a moment longer.

But the moment was broken when Sam spoke again, and Dean shoved his guilt in the corner of his mind, for later examination.

"And what does this Ministry of yours want to do to us?" Sam asked Harry.

"I don't know," Harry answered, and something in his tone told them he was being honest. "I can suppose, of course, but neither of my assumptions are very optimistic," he said and bit his lip, pensively. "The best option here is you being oblivated – that means they will erase your memory – but no one can say for sure what, exactly, do they want to erase. They can confund you – you'll see how that works in a minute – that means they will alter some of your memories, but that is all nothing comparing to the fact that you are wanted by the Department of Mysteries," he paused and chewed on his lower lip, as if trying to decide whether to tell them this bit or not. Finally he said. "I can't even begin to know what they are going to do to you that involves the Departments of Mysteries, but trust me, you don't want to find out."

Dean did trust him on this. The way Harry sounded Dean could assume he was speaking out of personal experience.

"I can't even imagine what serious shit you must have done to attract their attention. I mean usually they are all about secrets of Love, of Time, of Life and Afterlife, of the concept of Souls and some other shit like that."

At the mention of souls and afterlives Dean automatically looked at Sam to find his brother staring at him with the same expression Dean must have been wearing himself. How could those people know about that? About them going to Hell and back, about Sam walking around soulless for about a year and a half. Could they be alias with Demons? Were they even more powerful than that?

Harry didn't sound like he knew anything bout that, though. Dean had to trust him on this, because, really, what other choice did they have now? It wasn't like they could just escape now, or – _wait_ , could they?

"If they are looking for us for about a year, how come they still haven't caught us? With all that super-mojo you all have?"

"Well, actually, they have a whole special department of Aurors devoted for catching you, here, in your American Ministry, if I hear right. Though, neither of us can track you for some reason, not a single tracking spell works on any of you. I guess that is all the more reason for the Department of Mysteries to examine you like some guinea-pigs."

"That must be…" Dean started, not sure if he should tell Harry that. But what the hell, what harm could that be now? It wasn't like they weren't already knee-deep in this fucking mess. "Our friend – Castiel, an angel – he put some anti-tracking charms on me and Sam, there're some symbols engraved on our ribs so no one can find where we are. It was actually designed so other angels couldn't find us, but I guess it works against you as well"

Harry's eyebrows were almost as high as his hairline "Angels? I see," He said rubbing his chin. For all the reaction Dean was expecting to see when one knows there are actually such things as angels, that was not one of them. "Interesting," Harry added quietly.

"Well, I'm glad we could be of entertainment" Dean said, annoyed at the lack of reaction from Harry, "but that brings in another question – if they can't find us, can't we just… go now?"

That did get a reaction from Harry, though. For several seconds he looked startled and a little shocked, and then some other emotion flickered across his face and disappeared just as quickly, before he took a hold of himself again. Though, if Dean didn't imagine it, he looked a little colder now and… more distant.

"Yes," Harry said, perfectly composed. "Yeah, of course, let me just take care of these guys"

As soon as he said it there was a quiet _pop_ and Ron appeared out of thin air in the middle of the road. He approached Harry and put a hand on his tense shoulder. Up this close Dean saw how tall Ron really was, Dean was right about him being as tall as Sam. The top of Harry's head barely reached the level of Ron's nose.

"You alright, mate?" Ron said gently and Dean could see a friend he was now being, so different from a cold, trained cop he was not a long time ago. Now he looked at Harry with a warm, soft look, genuine concern on his face.

"Yes," Harry sighed wearily. "Just didn't expect _this_. Actually, didn't expect to fight with him at all. Especially about _that_."

He fell silent, shaking his head, and Dean repressed the urge to ask what the fight had been about. It was not his business to ask, not the place and not the time. And, seriously, why did he even care?

"Well, _you_ didn't expect. Hermione, on the other hand…"

"You spoke to her?" Harry asked him distantly.

"Yeah, used you fireplace – you've got to fill up your floo powder, by the way, you have very little of it left – anyway, she took Teddy to ours for tonight, said that you needed to solve your business here and she wanted to talk to him about something, but _anyway_ , she said it was growing in Teddy for a long time, and that you should have seen it earlier and not react so badly when it finally came up."

"Well, it still doesn't justify him leaving home before full moon, without even taking the bloody Wolfsbane, what did he think about?"

"I know it doesn't, mate, don't yell at me, I only repeat Hermione's words," he paused, looking uncertain. "But I can't help agreeing with her, Harry. You did go too hard on the kid, he didn't deserve it."

Harry didn't respond to that, instead saying: "Come on, Ron, help me handle these guys."

"Shall we oblivate them or confund them?" Ron said, pensively.

"Confundus will work better for us, I guess," Harry said, taking out his wand and looking pretty intimidating again. "I believe we should make them think they showed up on false call. Like, a disobedient house-elf used magic in front of some Muggles. When they got here, everyone was already gone. What do you think?"

"Well, I guess, that's the bes way" Ron said amiably, then shook his head as if remembering he should be mad at Harry. His face took a serious Bitch-Face, not worthy Sam, of course, because Sam was a Master Bitch, but close enough. "Don't think I'm gonna let go of the fact that we attacked the Ministry because of them," He shot Dean and Sam a glare. "Once we're done here, you've got some serious explaining to do, Harry, and don't you think I won't kick your sorry arse!"

"Oh, I bet you will," Harry said with the same kind of indulgence he spoke to Dean and Sam with, like Ron's words were very amusing to him. Ron seemed to notice that, too, because he made a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Of course, I will," He said, as it seemed, just for the sake of arguing, then went all business. "So, I take the Big-Nose, you deal with the Crazy-Hair over there."

"Ah," Harry said, biting his lip again. "Of course."

Dean watched Harry approach the guy with absolutely ridiculous hair, still lying on the ground, unconscious. He sighed again, before pointing his wand at the guy's face and saying, his voice loud and clear: " _Confundus_ "

The guy's eyes opened, though his gaze was blank and unfocused. He stared ahead of him, not really seeing anything.

"You apparated here to find Justin Travis all alone. He told you there was no one here. He told you a house-elf must have had used magic here in front of some Muggles. You saw no one. You came here and the only person here was Justin Travis. No one else. Is it clear?" Harry said it all in a calm insinuating tone. The man blinked then said 'yes', his gaze unwavering, voice sounding weak and confused.

He saw Ron doing the same to the other guy not far from Harry. Sam also watched both of them with some kind of fascination in his eyes. Dean smirked, remembering al that magic stuff Sam did when he was thirteen, his obsession with magic and his hocus-pocuses.

"You will now apparate back to wherever you came from and fill in the reports with the appropriate information. You got me? Good. Now, go back in ten seconds." Ron was saying, using the same insinuative voice that Harry did.

Dean's gaze moved around and suddenly Dean realized there was something wrong, something serious. He looked around again before it hit him – the kid, that Justin Travis guy, was fucking _gone_.

"Hey!" He yelled, attracting Harry's and Ron's attention to this tinny little fact. "That kid, the first one, where's he?"

Harry and Ron froze and then both started looking around frantically.

"Shit!" Harry exclaimed, hanging his head and shutting his eyes. Ron just kept turning around as if still hoping the Travis guy was just hiding behind a tree.

"Harry! _Harry!_ What the bloody hell? Merlin's _balls_ , Harry, he's gone and fuck knows how much he's seen or heard! Well, he certainly noticed us attacking the Aurors and then me knocking him out! What a good story to tell his mates in the Ministry, huh? The Great Hero Harry-fucking-Potter Turns Dark As Predicted And Goes Against the American Ministry, I can almost see it in tomorrow's Daily Prophet front page! What the fuck are we gonna do now! I don't even mention the fact that he probably knows those are Winchesters, now, only to add up to all the drama!" Ron paused to take a breath, shooting Dean another deadly glare.

There were two _pops_ and the guys Harry and Ron were working on, disappeared. Harry sighed quietly.

"Ron, the only drama here is coming from you now, really," He snapped, though there was no bite in his words. He just looked… defeated. "You can complain later, I promise, now we need to get out of here as soon as possible, we also need to protect Dean and Sam because now the Ministry knows where they are. Though, I really don't know what kind of magic I can use that will not be broken by the Aurors. It would've been more useful if they weren't Muggles, but there's no point talking about it."

He fell silent, obviously lost in thoughts about how to better protect Dean and Sam from whatever and whoever was coming after them. And though it was all scary and exciting and depressing at the same time, there was another question that couldn't just be ignored anymore.

"Why?" He said only to realize Sam had said the same thing at the same time. They looked at each other briefly.

"Why what?" Harry said.

"Why are you doing all this?" Sam demanded, asking the same things Dean wanted to say. "I mean, you willingly got yourself in trouble for us, now you're in this mess also, well _partially_ , because of us, and we haven't even done anything good but killed your people! Why are you so much for protecting us?"

Harry just stood there, frozen in his place, looking, for anything in the world, confused and surprised.

"That is one excellent question, Harry," Ron said, quirking his res eyebrows. He would've looked funny if it wasn't for a fact Dean knew he could turn from annoyed to raging intimidating giant in about five seconds.

Harry opened his mouth then closed it, then opened again but nothing came out.

"What was that, huh?" Ron hissed, glaring at him. "I'm sorry I didn't get it, I don't speak fish"

Harry glared back at him half-heartedly, the finally said, very quietly: "I… don't know," he admitted.

"You _what_?" Ron railed at him, eyes wide and hands flying around wildly as he yelled. " _You don't know_?"

"Well, they seemed like good guys!" Harry tried to yell back, but he couldn't quiet meet Ron's eyes. He looked embarrassed and miserable. "I'm sorry I dragged you into that, but I just had this feeling, like, you know, _I should help them_ , and that it's unfair because they're Muggles and they didn't really know what they were doing, just like I wouldn't have known if uncle Vernon succeeded in keeping me away from my first letter!" He pauses, still not meeting Ron's eyes. "I just knew it, and, like, had this very strong feeling about them"

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Like back in our fifth year, I remember you having a very strong feeling about breaking into the Department of Mysteries for Sirius, and I don't think it turned out very good, do you?"

Whatever insinuation there was in Ron's words, it seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Ron winced and looked like he regretted saying that the moment the words fell from his lips. The words seemed to hit Harry like a hammer, and he gasped quietly, his expression pained and haunted. Then his eyes went hard and cold, his face unreadable stony mask as he composed himself.

"Harry, mate, I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean it like that, right?" Ron said, sounding, indeed, genuinely sorry.

"Yeah, Ron," Harry responded, his voice hoarse and raspy like he hadn't talked for a long time and he still sounded miserable. Dean's hands clenched in fists on their own accord and belatedly, Dean realized he wanted to punch Ron for putting Harry in this mood, making him this miserable.

He shook his head violently, shocked at the process of his thinking. Sam was looking at him with strange, suspicious expression on his face, as if he knew, exactly, what Dean thought and felt like. Dean scowled at him and turned back to watching Harry and Ron. He could think about it later. Or never.

Now that sounded much better. Never is a good thing.

"Harry, look I didn't mean that, alright?" Ron said again, wincing. "I just… it's a very difficult fucking situation we got ourselves into. Thank god, we managed to get Teddy away from here in time, who knows what would have happened to him."

"Yeah, you're right about that," Harry agreed, his back relaxing a bit, though he still looked terribly tense. "But, still, and I mean it, Ron, I have a feeling and I'm gonna help these guys, especially now, when we started this whole mess and made their location known. You with me?"

Ron sighed again, biting his lip and closing his eyes briefly. "Of course, I'm bloody with you, Harry. When was I ever not with you?" He said it quietly but firmly and all the tension seemed to have left Harry at once. He beamed at them, clasping his hands.

"Excellent, excellent," He said, grinning and Dean smirked back at him. "Just like the old times, it's a shame Hermione's not here!"

"Well, somebody has to watch our kids, Harry," Ron said, now also smiling. "Frankly, I'm glad she's not here, I would only end up worrying about her, even if I know she's more than capable of defending herself and ever one of us."

"That she is," Harry agreed then turned to Sam and Dean. "Hermione is Ron's wife. And my second best friend," he smiled again.

"Well, good to know, really," Dean said, glancing at Ron and only now noticing a golden band on his ring-finger. "But you said yourself earlier that we need to get out of here. Not that I don't enjoy watching dudes have their chick-flick moments, but…"

"Yeah, yeah, he's right," Ron said, going all business again. "Now, look, we could put some spells on their car but both you and me know that whatever we put Ministry will be able to get through them. We could give them some charmed amulets of stuff like that, but that's not powerful enough. Ministry can't track them, can they? So, basically, we could move them somewhere far from here but they need their car to move around and be able to defend themselves, and I'm not good enough at transfiguration to shrink it or do anything so we could apparate with it."

"We could make it a portkey," Harry suggested.

Ron shook his head. "That would be great but we need the Ministry's permission to do so, and do you really want to show up at the Ministry right now?"

"Bollocks," Harry swore, "Well, I think Hermione might know a specialist in transfiguration, huh?"

"Yeah, but that, again, probably involves dealing with the Ministry, and even if not, it will still take a lot of time for them to contact and meet and I doubt that person will be trust-worthy enough to tell them why, exactly, do we need to apply advanced transfiguration to a Muggle car."

"Then, I'm out of ideas, Ron," Harry said, frowning. "I don't know what else we can try. Travis must have told this Ministry that the Winchester brothers themselves are here and unless we move them along with the car somewhere another state, they are screwed because their Aurors will show up here any moment now and I will not be of much use there!"

"They can just appear here and make us go with them?" Sam asked on one in particular, dubiously, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"They can do much worse than that, believe me," he said darkly and Sam looked away quickly, swallowing. Dean wondered distantly, what really could happen to them in the worst-case scenario. Judging by Ron's and Harry's dark looks, he could surely say that nothing fucking good

"Ok, I have an idea, but I highly doubt you'll like it," he told Harry then turned to Sam and Dean. "Or you, for that matter. In fact, you might hate it the most."

"Well, spill it, then, because I doubt that option would be worse than having us caught, our memories erased or what-the-fuck-ever other weird-ass shit that could be done to us!" Dean snapped, restless and impatient to get out of here, soon. How much more weird shit could one person take? Because he and Sam must have way overstepped their limit for both 'weird' and 'shit' for a lifetime.

"Basically, the idea is that we go with you. For now," he hurried to add at everyone's incredulous looks. His face even reddened a bit. "Just until we find a better way to protect you for good. And while we are with you Harry can stop worrying about you two being caught and we could actually try to prevent it, in case the Ministry finally sends someone out for you. While we are here with you, in your car, you might not think about being caught and having your minds played with. You see, we are Aurors ourselves…"

"We gathered this much," Sam said, and Dean listened to his tone carefully, but he didn't sound against Ron's idea. Dean thought about it himself. He and Sam travelled together, just the two of them and, occasionally, Dad used to, as well. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. But more often than not, there were just the two of them, together against the world and evil, and Dean liked it that way and didn't want to change that for the life of him. That was like the only constant in his life, him in the driver's seat and Sam in the passenger's seat right next to him, something that never changed. That was the main reason Dean had abandoned his car caompletely after Sam had jumped into the pit – it brought too many memories he couldn't deal with, too many empty space that Sam used to fill, that was gaping at him, the emptiness and silence crawling inside of him, devouring him.

He shook his head.

Now, though, the idea of Harry being in his car with them… well, it didn't sound as bad as he thought it would. After all, Harry was the protection he and Sammy both needed, and if something good was offered, you take it, right?

How full of shit he is, Jesus.

"Harry, what do you think?" Ron asked his friend nervously.

"Well," Harry said. "Like I've already said, I'd be glad to help you guys. If you let me, that is"

He said it simply and honestly and just like that Dean found himself replying back 'Ok', just as honestly. There was a small pause in which Sam looked at him, his gaze questioning, as if to ask 'you sure?' and Dean nodded slightly at him. Sam gave him a tiny shrug in return, shaking his head and Dean read him like a book 'well, you're the oldest, after all'

Harry grinned then, and Dean's lips stretched into a smile on their own accord.

"Ok then, just let me put some Protection spells on your car, just in case –"

"Whoa, hold on there!" Dean said, shaking his head violently. "Hell if I allow you to put some fucking 'spells' on my baby! And what was that about her being fucking _shrunk_ , huh? No way in hell!"

"Dean, it's for your own good," Sam said in his exasperated tone he used whenever he thought Dean was too lovable with his car. "It won't damage her in any way, will it?" He asked both Harry and Ron.

"No, it won't be visible or tangible, you'll forget about the spells in a minute. They will keep the Muggle police away though, and other people –"

"See?" Sam said again, "You won't even notice! Come on, Dean, don't be a stubborn whiny five-year old!"

"Am not," he said rather maturely. "And your face is whiny."

Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Ok then, if anyone else have a desire to criticize my methods speak up now," he said and Ron rolled his eyes. He did that almost as often as Sam, Dean thought, maybe Sam and Ron should join some eye-rolling club together? They sure will be the best there.

"Well, now, just how much did Harry tell you?" Ron asked them. "Did he tell you The Story?"

" _Ron,_ " Harry said, exasperated, pausing with his waving the wand, walking around the Impala in circles, muttering something.

"What?" Ron said, rolling his eyes _again_. If it was a drinking game, Dean thought, they all would've been pretty much on the floor, vomiting.

"I told them the story without your over-exaggerating details," Harry said.

"Well, don't listen to him," said Ron to them conversationally, smiling a little. "I should tell you The Story myself. Harry never does it enough justice."

"Ron, seriously," Harry murmured but Ron ignored them, leaning on the trunk door of the Impala and stretching out his freakishly long legs, causing Harry to stumble over them. "Now listen to ol' Uncle Ron, kiddies" Ron began and Harry scowled at him. "So there was this boy…"


	3. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all, guys, for giving me such an amazing response I wasn't expecting at all! I love you so much right now that I want to write this non-stop just so you can get the rest of the story as soon as possible! Thank you all so much, you've no idea! Also, congrats for savvy, who like she had pointed out was the first to comment – an internet cookie goes to you, darling :D  
> Anyway, here's the next part, again – all mistakes are mine, English is not first language, blah blah, who even reads that?

"The guys actually broke into the best-guarded bank in history, got into the safest vaults guarded by a real Dragon, freed him and escaped on its back through the main entrance! Right in their faces! The guys were pretty bad-ass!" Ron was saying gleefully, with mirth of a child who got all of Christmas presents a month ahead of a holiday.

Dean gasped, his eyes widening. "A Dragon? Like, a real, honest-to-god _Dragon_? With scales, wings and fire-breathing?"

"Exactly!" Ron confirmed and Harry snorted behind his back, loudly. Ron ignored him. "That was so epic, you should've seen it!"

"I can imagine," Sam said, sounding absolutely fascinated by the Story Ron had been telling them so enthusiastically for the last fifteen minutes, while Harry was putting on protecting spells on the Impala. Frankly, Dean was pretty fascinated, too. The whole story about these three guys Ron was telling them about was rather unbelievable, if not downright impossible. He genuinely felt sorry for that Chosen One boy, or the Boy-Who-Lived, whatever, because seriously, his life story was absolutely depressing. Losing his parents at the age of one year, being given to abusive relatives, having been forced to live in a freaking closet for eleven years, having been chosen for some weird-ass completion at the age of fourteen and then tortured and forced to watch his friend getting killed; finding his godfather and losing him again, losing his beloved old headmaster of that wizarding school of theirs. Then having a war and losing a lot of other people he loved and cared for. Basically giving away everything he had, again and again, losing so much but still fighting. Though Dean had no idea how the guy even got up in the morning. Knowing he was to kill that powerful asshole or otherwise be killed and he was only fifteen, for God's sake! Dean almost lost it two years ago and gave up to Michael and he was an adult who had seen a lot in his life and tired of the weight of responsibility he had over his shoulders. But that kid was fifteen and alone and he still didn't give up, and Dean suddenly felt increadibly guilty, because _he_ did.

There were some awesome moments, too, of course, like that one Ron was currently telling them about. Dean had always been into Grand Theft things so he could truly appreciate a masterful robbery when he heard of one.

"So they did manage to get that Horcrux thing they were after?" Sam asked Ron excitedly, like a kid asking his father to tell him what happened to Snow-white at the end.

"Yes, they did, it was a cup, they destroyed it just before the Final Battle," Ron said.

"And what happened to the Chosen Boy?" Dean wondered, feeling uneasy, for some reason, talking about the boy.

"He died," Harry suddenly spoke, cutting Ron off. He didn't participate in Ron's story, other than commenting on some of Ron's too detailed pieces and chuckling at other places, but he hadn't really said anything, until this moment. It sounded harsh and cold and Ron's grin slipped away immediately.

"Harry," he said gently, "it's ok, mate."

Harry stopped, his hand stilling in the air, mid-action. He closed his eyes and exhaled very slowly, as if gathering strength for whatever he was about to say next.

"Well, this guy didn't exactly die," he finally said, somewhat unsure.

"Oh, he died just fine," Ron said seriously. "As it turned out he was the last Horcrux."

Sam's eyes widened. "So there was a piece of Voldemort's soul in him?"

"Yes," Ron nodded and Dean saw Harry continue his spell-providing. Something in him seemed to change, though, subtly, but Dean couldn't quiet put his finger on it. It felt like the answer was right there, laid out in front of him and he just couldn't see it.

"He was resurrected," Harry said quietly, not looking at anyone decidedly. "And after that, that piece was out of him, for good."

"So…" Dean asked them again, feeling something twist unpleasantly in his stomach. "Where's he now?"

"Oh, he's great now, all three of them, actually," Ron answered them, his wide grin back on his face, mischievous glint in his eyes. With a corner of his eye Dean saw Harry's lips twist into a tiny smile. "The guy's best friend married the girl he'd loved all this time and they have two beautiful children." He smiled affectionately then continued. "As for the Chosen One… well, after the final Battle he finished school – like the rest of them – and after that he was accepted to the Auror training programme without any exams. He entered along with his best friend. Now he's the youngest Head of the Auror office in history, and his best friend is his right hand."

There was silence in which Ron's words slowly sunk in. As soon as they did, Sam and Dean gasped at the same time.

"Now," Ron said, clasping his hands and grinning widely. He made a dramatic pause. "You have three guesses as to who this guy is and first two don't count!"

Dean shot a glance at Sam who looked just as shocked as Dean felt, though, come to think of it – it wasn't such a shock, he should've seen it earlier. But still, one thing to hear an epic story about some faceless guy and feel sorry for him, because, really, the guy had a shitty life, and another thing was to know this guy was actually standing right next to him.

His mouth still hanging open, Dean turned to Harry. The man was bright red, up to his hairline, and he was steadily avoiding everyone's eyes. Shyly, he murmured: "Ron has always made it sound like much more than it really was."

Ron stared at him. "Mate, I haven't even told all the awesome details. Seriously, I didn't make it sound like _enough_ , what are you even talking about!"

He looked back at Dean. "On our first year, when Harry was twelve, he killed a full grown _basilisk!_ No shit!"

" _A basilisk?_ " Sam repeated, incredulous. Ron nodded enthusiastically.

"Dude, you are so _awesome_ ," Dean said and it came out much more sincerely than he planned, his voice full of genuine admiration. At that, Harry actually looked at him, surprised, like it was the first time somebody told him that, in which Dean just couldn't believe. For all he had heard, Harry must be some real celebrity in that 'community' of his, with people telling him that every single time they saw him. "Seriously, I, uh, I don't even know what to say," He said uncertainly, because, really, what can you possibly say after hearing a story like that? That Dean was sorry? That Dean understood, got it, what it felt like when your life had already been decided for you, some stupid prophecy or whatever hanging over you like unbearable weight?

Did whatever he was going to say even matter? Was it even enough to express what he really felt? And he did feel a lot, much more than he wanted or was ever ready to admit, things you don't actually want to feel when a person you feel them for has met you, like, _an hour_ ago.

Dean cleared his throat. Harry actually looked embarrassed.

"That's why I preferred to tell you the short version!" He sighed, again avoiding everyone's gazes. "People always get uncomfortable after hearing it! And to hear it from Ron, with all the heroic shit he likes so much to put in his stories, when it wasn't even like that in the first place!"

"Dude, just calm down and face it: you are awesome!" Dean said again, genuinely, this time without even being embarrassed about it, because, clearly, Harry needed to get rid of whatever self-deprecating complexes he had his head wrapped around. _That_ , Dean also knew what felt like, he knew it _too_ well.

Harry didn't say anything to that, just got back to work silently, his face red up to the roots of his hair. Silence filled the air between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable or heavy, just… thoughtful.

Dean glanced at Sam and, almost unconsciously, took a step closer to his brother, suddenly needing his presence right next to him, to be reassured by his brother's closeness. He felt a desperate urge to touch Sam just to make sure he wouldn't just disappear all of a sudden, like all these wizards guys they had witnessed earlier.

Sam must have felt the same, because he suddenly seemed much closer and Dean felt a reassuring touch of Sam's shoulder brushing against his. The tough was casual and light but Dean felt much better, relief filling his whole being. Sam was there, he told himself firmly, he wasn't going anywhere, not without Dean, at least.

He had to remind himself that pretty often these days.

"Ok, I think I'm done here," Harry finally announced, making Dean snap out of his trance. "We should get in and we'd better do it fast, we already lost enough time on the spells."

"So we just…" Dean trailer of, uncertainly, not sure what to expect of sitting down in his car now that it had been upgraded with all the innovative Protection Pack, version 7.0. He opened the door cautiously and slid into the driver's seat tentatively, not sure what to expect, but nothing happened. Nothing really felt different, spells or not, and Dean finally let himself relax, back behind the wheel of the Impala – the place he definitely felt confident enough for every one of them.

He waited for everyone to get in: Sam in the passenger seat, like usual, and Harry and Ron on the backseat, Ron's legs folded in a way that surely could not be comfortable.

"How strange!" Ron was musing out loud, "This car feels just as small inside as it looks from the outside! What's the matter?"

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes. "It's a Muggle car, Ron. It's not supposed to feel any different than it looks."

"Then how do you travel?" Ron asked one of them. Dean looked at him through the rearview window. "There are only four people that could fit in here, five at most!"

"Er, yeah, that's the general idea," said Sam, frowning slightly. "And how many people fit in your cars?"

"Well, it depends on the spell that is put on the car and the person who'd produced it," Ron said thoughtfully. "Usually, about twelve-fifteen persons. Hermione once managed twenty-two, but then again, she's always been great at Charms."

"Twenty-two?" Sam repeated dubiously. "How on earth are twenty-two people supposed to fit in one car?"

"Well, we put a spell on it, so it's much bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside," Harry explained. "From outside it looks just any other ordinary car, but once you get inside it's actually the size of a small, or in Hermione's case – a rather big, room."

"Freaking unbelievable," Dean muttered, trying to imagine twenty people climbing in the Impala. The image he got in his mind was pretty ridiculous and he shook his head, chuckling. He reached down to start the engine and the car roared, the pleasant sound he'd come to appreciate so much. It felt comfortable, familiar and soothing, and Dean finally felt a little bit more in control of the situation.

Ron, though, kept turning his head frantically, looking uneasy.

"Is it supposed to be this loud?" He asked, frowning. "It's really very loud, Dean! There's nothing wrong with it, is there?"

"Nope," Dean said, a little smug that he found something that could surprise and made uncomfortable _these_ guys. "That's a classic car for you, baby, get used to it."

Ron just frowned more and looked like he was about to say something else, probably, to ask further questions concerning the safety of their little road trip, but bit his tongue and kept silent. Dean smirked weakly.

"So, I suggest we finally hit the road and get the hell out of here," he said, giving everyone a look through the rearview mirror. Sam made an agreeing sound and Harry said: "I like this idea."

Then Ron said: "Does your car fly?"

Dean sighed quietly. This, for sure, was going to be one hell of a road trip.

***SPN/HP***

"Where are going, by the way?" Ron asked not fifteen minutes in the trip.

"To Bobby's," Dean replied. "He's a friend of ours, he'll probably figure something out."

"Yeah, right," Sam said, frowning. "I'm sure he'll be very happy we brought two witches – sorry, _wizards_ – to his place."

"Why would he mind?" Ron asked him, seeming generally confused.

"Ron," Harry sighed, "The fact that Dean and Sam felt like killing us the moment they learned we were wizards doesn't tell you anything?"

"Well, that's them, but, I mean, _why_ would anyone mind us being able to do magic? It's not like we walk around making slaves out of every Muggle we see!"

" _We_ don't," Harry said. "But if you try and strain that wonderful brain of yours, I think you'll remember someone who did."

That shut Ron up. He was silent for almost two minutes before he murmured: "Still not fair. We're not evil! We _fight_ evil, for Merlin's sake!"

"That we do," Harry agreed. "But you don't know the sacred strength of stereotypes. Just think of Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. Having magic in me made me a freak in their eyes."

"Are they still alive?" It came out before Dean really thought about it and didn't have time to bite his tongue. Just, the story, how he heard it from Ron's point of view, made him feel really, _really_ angry while hearing about the boys – _Harry's_ , damn it – relatives. The fact that there was no one for him at the time, no one to support him, no friends, no other family – _no one,_ made him feel uneasy and unhappy. Dean tried to imagine himself in Harry's shoes and he couldn't. Dean had always had Sam, his only constant in life, who had always been there to back him up, to love him, support him and protect him, always following Dean around and, basically, being his family. But Harry's brother – cousin, doesn't matter – only worsened his life, taunting him, beating him and generally making sure Harry had one hell of a life. And the worst thing was that Harry was forced to survive that _all alone_.

Dean's fists clenched on the wheel, and he tried to relax them, still fuming. That whole thing with Harry's childhood made him unreasonably angry, made him want to find those god damn sons of bitches and beat the living daylights out of them for treating Harry this way.

Which, he had to remind himself again, was ridiculous and all kinds of stupid, considering he had met Harry not _two hours ago_.

"They live somewhere near London," Ron spat out angrily, before Harry had a chance to say anything. The way Ron said it, the way his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched told Dean Ron was feeling the same way he did. But then again, Ron had known Harry for twenty years, while Dean –

Dean should fucking shut up and compose himself, dammit!

"Yes," Harry said calmly. "They lived in London for some time, then moved to the suburbia, probably because Aunt Petunia couldn't imagine her life without making herself a goal of having the best lawn in the neighborhood, and that's hard to achieve in the center of London."

Dean glanced at him and saw Harry actually _smiling_ while talking of his fucking _abusive_ relatives.

"Dude, aren't you, I don't know, angry at them for treating you this way your whole life?" He asked uncomfortably. Harry met his gaze through the mirror.

"No," He said and his smile grew a little wider. "I just… forgave them, is all."

"Forgave them, my arse," Ron muttered under his breath but Harry still heard him

"Yes, Ron, I did," He repeated thoughtfully. "I used to think a lot about them, hating them, but then I just realized that they could've just kicked me out, like, they could've refused to take me in, but they did. They fed me and gave me clothes and I even got to go to school. And no matter how much they hated me they still didn't kick me out."

"They put a cage on your windows and locked you in your room for months, Harry!" Ron exclaimed incredulously.

"Well, at least I _had_ my own room!" Harry shot back calmly.

"And Petunia almost did kick you out, remember? After you fought of the dementors when you were fifteen? She almost kicked you out!"

"But she didn't," Harry said firmly. "And for that, I am grateful."

Ron just opened and closed his mouth then huffed and shut up, shaking his head. Dean whistled quietly.

"Man, you are _so_ damaged!" he said, smirking, but there was some strange tugging at the bottom of his stomach.

Harry quirked his eyebrows: "I have this strange certainty that if we talked about your own childhood, while also digging up all the complexes and issues you've ever had, I would not live up to the end of our conversation being a sane man, am I right?"

Dean smirked, averting his gaze from the mirror.

"Touché," he finally said, shaking his head. With a corner of his eye he saw Sam roll his eyes.

*****SPN/HP*****

They were driving for several hours now and Dean found himself being the only one who was still awake.

Sam's head was resting on the window while he slept and it was a usual sight Dean was accustomed too.

The sight of the backseat, however, was something else entirely. Harry was sleeping with his chin on his chest, snoring quietly, his head bobbing up and down with every turn of a car Dean made. Ron was slouched on the seat, as much as a gigantic person like him could manage to, and his head was resting on Harry's shoulder, Harry's hair all over Ron's face. Also, Ron was drooling _a lot_ , and there already was a damp spot on Harry's shirt. All in all, they'd make a great poster of 'innocence' and 'cute-ness'.

There was another sharp turn and Dean stopped the car as they approached a motel. It was only half past twelve pm but he was awfully tired and he guessed the others were, too. It had been a rough day for all of them and he felt like collapsing on a bed and sleeping for weeks. He couldn't decide, though, what he craved most – sleep or food.

"Where are we?" Harry slurred sleepily, blinking owlishly at Dean, his glasses askew. Dean couldn't help grinning at him, because, really, the guy was a definition of a word 'cute' right now.

"Motel," Dean answered. "I figured we all could use some sleep in real beds, am I right?"

"Absolutely," Ron said, also waking up and trying to lift himself from Harry's shoulder.

"Merlin, Ron!" Harry exclaimed on noticing the state of his shirt where Ron's head had previously been. "I have to wring it out now, Beethoven! You're worse than a dog, seriously, mate! I wonder how we didn't drown in your saliva here, I guess one more hour and I'd have suffocated in my sleep!"

Ron blinked slowly at him. "Huh," he said stupidly. "Why are you calling me a Muggle composer?"

Both Dean and Harry chuckled and their gazes met in the rearview mirror. They just stared at each other silently, smiles frozen, before the strange moment was broken by Sam, who was also coming to.

"Where're we?" He said, trying to sit straighter in his seat.

"A motel," Dean repeated again. "We all need some decent sleep."

"Huh," was all Sam said. He cleared his throat and shook his head, probably trying to shake himself of out of sleepiness. Then he reached down, opened the door and stepped outside of the car, Dean copying his actions.

Then, chaos started.

Out of nowhere, several men, wearing black robes, appeared in a circle around the Impala and Dean didn't even have time to see how many of them there were, but he thought around five.

In a second, both Harry and Ron were outside as well, all traces of sleep gone. Dean drew out his gone immediately but Harry shouted: _"GET DOWN!"_ and the next thing he knew, Sam had pulled him to the ground, both their backs pressed to the side door of the Impala.

Suddenly there were flashes of light flying all around them as Harry and Ron sprang into action, waving their wands around in some complicated moves, sometimes shouting spells Dean couldn't even begin to understand.

It was all happening very fast, and, in what seemed like a few seconds, three of the men were lying on the ground, unmoving. The other two, though (and there were, indeed, five of them), only seemed to get more desperate at that and suddenly the air around them changed, almost tangibly, becoming electrified, _dark_. Harry and Ron stopped shouting the spells as they waved their wands, now keeping silent, their mouths tight, and Dean took that as a sign that the fight grew more serious.

He watched one of the men point his wand at Harry and before Dean saw Harry he knew he would be hit, and he didn't even have time to warn him. His eyes wide, he watched a black flash shoot out of the man's wand and hit Harry in the right shoulder.

" _Fuck!_ " Harry hissed, pained, and suddenly there was a large cut going down to his clavicle from his shoulder. Blood flowed over his arm, his chest, fast, and Ron's eyes widened almost comically as he saw that. He avoided another flash sent his way and waved his hand, pointing at the guy who hit Harry, but missed again.

Harry already looked pale as a sheet, and he weakly tried to stop the blood by pressing his left hand to the wound. It didn't help much, but Harry was still standing, still sending spells at the three men left.

"Fucking _assholes!_ " Dean roared, gripping his gun in his hand and trying to get up. His blood boiled inside him and the sight of Harry injured this much made him feel a rush of protectiveness for the guy along with a sudden desire to rip those men in pieces. He struggled to get up again, but Sam held him down.

"Don't be stupid, Dean!" Sam hissed, pressing him to the door and Dean couldn't do much at that, because Sam was larger and stronger than him. He kept struggling, though. "Now's not the time to play hero, Dean, fucking listen to me! You can't do anything here, hold fucking still!"

But Dean's anger or a rush of adrenalin, whatever, only added him that much more strength to push Sam away and stand up, shooting at the guy who attacked Harry. The bullets didn't make it to the man, though, stopping few inching away from his body, as if hitting an invisible barrier and fell to the ground, useless. There was a moment of confusion where everything seemed to freeze for a second, before the asshole looked up and spotted Dean, smirking slyly. He pointed his wand at Dean.

"NO!" Harry shouted somewhere to his right and the next moment Dean was on the ground again, pinned by Harry's whole weight on him. He felt something wet soaking the front of his short then run down his neck and, with panic, realized it was Harry's blood, still flowing way too fast out of his wound. Harry didn't move away from him and Dean saw he was on the verge of passing out right on top of Dean, so he carefully tried to push Harry on the ground, away from the flashes still flying around. Sam helped him, pushing Harry up so he was seated with his back to the Impala, between them, his eyes half closed.

Distantly he heard a painful yelp and realized Ron was now left alone in there, one versus two and none of them could do anything about it. He glanced up to find Ron waving his wand frantically, his expression wild, and Dean saw several different flashes shoot out of Ron's wand in a row towards the Chief Asshole guy, who managed to dissolve the first two but the third and forth still hit the git and he collapsed on the ground, groaning.

Quickly, Ron turned back to the last remaining guy but the man just stopped with his wand-waving, frozen expression on his face, and then he just turned on his heels and disappeared, leaving Ron standing there, confused and panting wildly, wand still in hand.

"Is he… is he gone?" Dean risked to say after a moment of silence and Ron startled and looked down at him like he had forgotten they were there. His expression turned into one of panic as soon as he saw the state Harry was in.

"Bloody hell," He muttered, slouching to the ground. "They hit him with Sectusempra, I think," he said quietly and even though Dean didn't understand what the hell that word meant, judging by Ron's tone it was certainly nothing good. He turned to Sam: "Please, Sam, we'll need a room really soon, go get us one in there."

Sam nodded and took off, heading to the motel reception. Ron focused on Harry again, who looked like Death himself now, his face turning grey-ish.

"Can you… can you fix him?" Dean asked Ron.

"I hope so," Ron said and then began waving his wand up and down Harry's body, muttering something that sounded like ' _Vulnera Salentur_ ' several times. When he finished Dean stared, in awe, at the place where the wound used to be just a minute ago but was now replaced with a long clean scar.

"How did you do that?" asked Dean, not even trying to keep the respect out of his voice. Ron looked up at him and smiled a little, relief written all over his face.

"It's a very complex spell, actually," he said and he sounded exhausted. "It's applied to the hexes like the one Harry was hit – _very_ dark magic, by the way – and we had to learn that one in the Auror training. Never thought, though, I would ever witness a Sectusempra curse again after Snape died…"

Dean didn't get the Snape thing, though he did understand the curse Harry was hit with was real bad-ass. He looked Harry over again. There was no wound anymore but he still was mostly unconscious and deadly pale.

"Hey," Sam called from behind his back and Dean turned around to see that Sam was back, holding two sets of keys. "How's he?"

"Better," Ron said curtly. "He still needs sleep and rest, though. Come on, help me get him up."

Dean grabbed Harry by his arm and helped Ron put him on his feet. Harry's eyes opened and he squinted at them through his glasses.

"Are they gone?" he slurred trying to turn around to see if the guys were still lying on the ground.

"Four down, one took off," Ron retorted. "But don't worry about it now, I'll take care of them later. You need sleep."

"I'm fine," Harry protested weakly and Sam shook his head, his lips tight.

"God, you and Dean are so alike," he said, frowning.

"Dude, you lost like one bazillion frizillion tons of blood!" Dean said incredulously. "If you don't go to bed on your own, I swear I'll just tie you down myself and force sleep on you, magic or not."

"I could still kick your arse, Dean," Harry murmured but there was no heat in it.

"Yeah, _right_ , with the way stumble over thin air right now, I bet you'd definitely _'kick my arse'_ ", he teased, trying on his best British accent. They almost got to their room, only a little more distance left. He felt the way Harry was leaning on him heavily, like he would certainly fall down should Dean decide to let go of him. He gripped Harry tighter, angry again at his own helplessness in this situation.

"Merlin, what was that? You know you sound more Arab when you talk like that, than British. I think that was the worst attempt at British accent I have ever had misfortune to hear."

"Gee, for a guy who had almost just bled his brains out you seem to be able to form too fancy sentences, dude, really. I start to wonder whether you'd faked the whole blood-loss thing with some secret mojo of yours!"

"Yeah, right," Harry said weakly, then coughed. "I surely set this whole thing up, invited those nice gentlemen over there and then faked the effect Unforgivables-level dark curse just because I was bored and decided to pull a prank on you, Dean."

Dean smirked slightly, actually liking Harry more and more with each second. There was just… something about the guy that Dean couldn't resist. He seemed nice and honest and Dean already felt like he's known him for ages not one day, and the panic he felt earlier that day at the thought of someone hurting Harry so much…

Well, let's not go there. He didn't want to think of that, not now, not ever.

They finally reached the room and on entering, Harry collapsed on the bed, seemingly asleep before his head had even hit the pillow. Dean turned to Ron.

"What now, man?" He asked and Ron turned business again.

"Now I go deal with the gits out there," Ron said, frowning.

"How did they find us?" asked Sam. "I mean, Harry put all those spells on the car, I assumed -"

"You assumed right, but if you noticed, they appeared the moment you were out of the car," Ron said thoughtfully. "They obviously knew where we were the whole time, they just couldn't attack us while we were under the spells' protection."

"Were they… dark or something?" Dean wondered. "Because I thought that Ministry of yours was kind of a decent place, because, really, dude? People appearing out of blue and cutting other people with some bad-ass spells? That ain't decent!"

"That is one more thing we need to find out," Ron said. "They wore the Ministry robes with the Ministry logo on them, though the way they acted wasn't all that sweet and nice. I guess I just have to go find that out now." He paused, before adding, "And believe me, they are so not going to like the way I'm gonna pull the info out of them," he finished darkly and Dean knew better than to ask.

"Whatever, man, just don't… kill them, ok?" he said instead, suddenly very much against the idea of Ron committing a cold-blooded murder on those guys. He just needed to know, really needed not to think of Harry and Ron as murders.

He didn't want to read too much into that, though.

"I won't," Ron promised quietly and Dean just believed him. "Okay," Ron said then, his tone considerably lighter. "You should go to your room, mate, you look like hell. And so do you, Sam, you could use some sleep. I'll go investigate."

"Okay," Sam sighed, not looking pleased but not arguing, either. "I guess we'd better discuss it all after we've had enough sleep."

They both headed to the door. Before walking out, Dean paused and turned to Ron again.

"You should sleep too, you know, after all that hard job of being a day's hero number one," Dean said quietly, letting concern show in his voice. Ron nodded, smirking weakly. "And, man… thank you," he added, sincerely. "Really. For saving our asses even though you didn't need to."

"You're welcome," Ron said, just as sincerely. "Who knows, maybe I just like the fact that you two owe me like hell now."

"Yeah, right," Dean smiled, tiredly but genuinely, "You wish."


	4. Road Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone who s still there! I'm not sure if I still have any readers left (my bad, I admit), but say I do – here's another part for you, a year and a half since the last update. I AM SORRYYYYY GUYS! D: D: D: I was so busy and caught up in stuff, and I've moved to another country so… yeah, a shitload of stuff going on.  
> Anyway, enjoy the latest part, I hope I'll get to continue it soon enough.

Harry came to slowly and painfully, feeling like he was hit by a truck. For a single disoriented moment he strained to remember where he was and what had actually happened, but then it all came back to him at once and he bolted to sit straight on the bed. Right, he was in a motel.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy, mate," came Ron's voice, and Harry turned to see his friend sitting on the second bed, looking at him.

"Ron, what time is it? How long was I out? Did you find out what happened? Where are the Winchesters?"

"It's all fine, calm down, Merlin!" Ron said, pursing his lips. "Its eight in the morning, you've been out for four hours, the Winchesters are in their room and no, I didn't find out what happened."

Ron glanced away, and Harry immediately recognized the look of guilt on his friend.

"Tell me," Harry said softly. Ron looked up at him again, wincing.

"Well, I went out and there were four of them unconscious, since one of them disapparated as you can remember. Anyway, I woke one of them and he immediately disappeared! I swear, mate, he just honest-to-god disappeared! That wasn't apparation, I'm telling you – I've never seen anything like it!" exclaimed Ron, waving his hands around frantically.

"So he didn't apparate but just disappeared? What about the others?"

"That's the thing, he disappeared for a moment only to appear next to the others, grab a hold of them and disappear again! No turning around, no wand using – nothing!"

"Interesting," Harry said, lying back down. "Do you think they were Ministry?"

"Honestly, Harry, you know I'm not an expert on reading people and nor am I the most attentive person to detail but one thing I did notice was their eyes! Blank and kind of dead, mate! I felt like I was dealing with Dementor-kissed people!"

"So what, they just disappeared like that?" Harry wondered, not being able to help feeling disappointed. Ron read that expression on his face anyway.

"I'm sorry, mate. I couldn't do anything."

He looked like he was blaming himself too much for something that wasn't even really his fault. Harry had a lot of experience with that.

"Ron, it's not your fault, mate. I know you tried, no one would have expected them to just vanish like that!" Harry said reassuringly. Ron looked a little relieved.

"Are you alright to get up, anyway?" He asked Harry, standing up himself. "We have to hit the road soon; the Winchesters are already up."

"I should think so," Harry said, carefully sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. He felt terribly sore. He forgot how bad Sectusempra felt after all.

"By the way – Sectusempra? What the hell was that?" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "I thought Snape took that spell to his grave!"

"I know right!" Ron said, looking just as confused and furious as Harry felt. "Apparently he didn't, since someone else knows of it and uses it alright!"

"We have to find out what is going on, Ron!" Harry concluded darkly, feeling helpless and seventeen all over again. "I don't like any of that one bit."

"You think I do?" Ron said, chuckling without any trace of humour. "Anyway, get dressed and come out, I'll go let the brothers know that you are up."

And with that he left the room.

Harry took a moment to compose himself and take his expression under control, since he knew he was showing his pain too much. He was trained better than that. He had to swallow it down and go on with the helping campaign he started out of blue and completely shocked himself with. He didn't know these people, he just met them; moreover, the only thing he knew for sure was that those guys went around killing supernatural magic creatures. Things that would earn Harry's hatred in any other circumstances.

But this was different, somehow. Harry could actually relate to them. He tried to picture himself growing up without ever knowing of magic's existence. Wouldn't he himself attack a supernatural thing that was trying to him, just following natural human instincts: kill or get killed? Wouldn't he then believe that everything that is supernatural is bad and/or out to get him? He probably would have. But he had a privilege of having magic and magical community to go with it, so he learnt better. The Winchesters didn't. For that, Harry could sympathize.

Then again, he had this Feeling. During his years of experience of working as an Auror Harry learnt to trust his instincts. He learnt that the best option was always the one that followed whatever his guts were telling him to. After everything that happened in his life as a consequence of one or another choice he had made, he learnt to just follow his heart and never be wrong. He leant to trust the Feeling.

And that was exactly what was happening now. Harry had a Feeling about the Winchester brothers. And he was sure as hell going to follow it.

He got dressed, rather slowly, but then again, every movement was painful. He checked his wand – something his has become quite paranoid to do when he woke up after blacking out ever since that day after Godric's Hollow, when Hermione gave him the pieces of his poor wand in her shaking hands.

His wand was fine and, thankfully, not broken.

Stuffing it in his sleeve – something he was taught to do in his training (he supposed Mad-Eye would have been satisfied that he stopped carrying it in his back pocket, would he have been alive) – he walked outside.

He immediately spotted Ron, standing by himself and looking uncomfortable, as if he was dying to finally have Harry with him so he would have to stay there alone with the hunters. Then he saw Sam and Dean, both of them leaning on the trunk of the Impala, talking to themselves quietly and somehow intimately, as if sharing secrets.

Another thing Harry liked about the Winchester at once was their relationship. Mind, he didn't know anything about the actual relationship they had, but one thing he knew for sure – they were extremely co-dependant, and there probably hadn't been a time (at least recently) that they were apart for long. They held on to each other like they were the only thing they had; they and their relationship. They obviously loved each other – terrifically so – and Harry could see it in each movement they made, in each glance they threw each other, in their walk, in their intimate silent conversations. They were through a lot together, Harry could tell, and most probably they didn't have anyone else to rely on, beside themselves. Relationship like that takes ages to built, Harry thought, but once you have it it's worth everything in the world.

That was what he had with Ron and Hermione. At least from Harry's side.

"Look who's up," Dean said as soon as he noticed Harry. Ron looked immensely relieved. "My, isn't it Harry Houdini himself?" he mocked, smirking.

Harry looked at him closely. Dean didn't look as awed and shocked as he did before, and nor did Sam. They looked perfectly composed and professional; ready to fight whatever it was they had to fight. The shock probably wore off after a night (or a few hours) of sleep.

"And here I was hoping I dreamt everything up," Dean seriously, and Harry felt a tiny pang of something like hurt inside which he didn't even have time to register. He blinked, clueless as to why he would feel hurt and pushed that to the back of his mind.

"Hey I'm just kidding," Dean said, apparently noticing the expression on Harry's face. He felt his face heat up and at the same time, something warm spreading out in his belly. He was horrified. "You know I could only ever dream of hooking up with such a proper British gentleman like yourself." And Dean winked, slowly and vulgarly.

Harry could almost hear Sam roll his eyes.

Merlin was that embarrassing. They needed to get going.

"We need to get going," he voiced his thoughts.

Everybody got in the car silently.

"Okay, so we have about eight hours drive to Bobby's place," Sam informed everybody.

"Blimey, I miss Dad's car so much," Ron whined, looking miserable. "It's a shame we crashed it, we could have used it now."

"What car was it?" Dean asked.

"Ford Anglia," Ron said proudly and a little bit sadly. "Good car, could fly and everything."

"I probably don't want to know," Dean muttered, starting the engine. He looked at the rear-view mirror, and for a moment Harry met his gaze. It was intense somehow, making Harry feel responsibility and being expected of something. Dean held his gaze until Sam noticed and interrupted.

"Dean -" he started to say.

"Sam." Dean cut him off.

They looked at each other and seeming had one of those silent conversations. Sam broke it first, looking away and shaking his head. Dean sighed heavily.

"Ok, let's go."

****SPN*******HP**********SPN************HP*********

Harry must have dozed off because when he opened his eyes it was getting dark already. He looked around: everyone seemed to be asleep except for Dean who was still driving. Harry wondered if he and Sam ever switched, because Dean looked like a type of man who was extremely possessive of his car. He must get tired though, driving for such long periods of time constantly.

"You up?" Dean asked him quietly, looking at the mirror. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit sore," Harry answered honestly. "Where are we?"

"Two-three hours away," Dean said. "I was going to stop and get us some food, though. You mind?"

"No, not at all. By all means, I could use some food now," He looked down at his shoulder, where Ron's head was bobbling up and down. "I could also stretch my legs."

He saw Dean nod, his eyes on the road.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry spoke again, not because he felt uncomfortable but simply because he wanted to know.

"So," He started carefully, somehow feeling he was touching a sensitive topic. "Is it just you and Sam, then? All the time?"

"Yes," Dean said curtly. "For the last few years."

"What about your parents?"

Dean was silent for a several moments.

"Our Mom died in a fire when I was four," he said very quietly, though Harry thought it wasn't due to the fact that Dean was afraid to wake anyone. "Our Dad died four years ago. It's just Sam and me now. Well, and Bobby."

"Who is Bobby?" Harry asked him, just as quietly, his tone of voice automatically matching Dean's. He felt that wasn't a subject Dean talked about to a lot of people. That actually made him feel privileged.

"Bobby is our Dad's old friend," Dean explained. "Dad left us with him when we were little and he had to work alone, so Bobby took care of us. He still does."

He fell silent then, and Harry didn't spoke either.

"We lost so many friends," Dean said after all, so quietly that Harry had to strain to make out the words. "I thought I'd lost Sam for quite a while, too. Bobby was the only one left."

Harry didn't know what he could possibly say to that. That he knew how that felt? That he felt this half his life? That he was an expert at loosing friends, mostly due his own mistakes? He swallowed and looked out the window, not really seeing anything.

"At least you still have Sam," He finally settled on.

"Yeah," said Dean. In the mirror Harry suddenly saw how much older Dean looked. He looked downright exhausted, like it took all his energy to simply get up this morning and move forward. Harry saw the lines on his face that spoke of age, loss and grief. The lines that shouldn't be on a face of a man who was barely over his thirties. He saw the man that had been through a lot of shit; who lost his faith and gained it again; who has been to hell and back.

Harry knew exactly what that felt like. He did come out of his own personal Hell once.

"I am sorry that you had to go through that, Dean," he said sincerely, looking Dean in the eye though the rear-view mirror. "I know I can't say anything that would make you feel better, but I can assure you I know how what it's like."

"I bet you do," Dean whispered and stared Harry in the eyes through the mirror. The gaze was so intense that Harry felt his mouth go dry and his heart start to beat faster. There was so much in Dean's eyes and yet Harry couldn't quite put his finger on what, exactly, it was. He was overwhelmed suddenly with emotion, he couldn't eve name, and for a moment he couldn't breathe.

"You know," Dean started saying, "I've always thought it was easier for you guys. I mean, for fuck's sake-you're wizards! You can do magic! Surely you can sort out-well-anything!"

"The trouble is," Harry said, smiling sadly, "the other side can do magic too, Dean."

"Point," Dean said, smiling slightly as well.

The moment felt tender and delicate, and Harry was afraid to say anything else to break it. He knew he and Dean had just become a tiny bit more honest, a tiny bit closer. He liked it too much, for some reason; the fact that he and Dean shared so much in common made him warm and excited.

He already knew what that meant, deep down, in the part of his consciousness he didn't want to examine. He chose to push it down even deeper, though. He didn't need that kind of feelings, not now, and possibly not ever. Whatever Dumbledore had said, he wasn't ready. After loosing Ginny, after loosing so many friends he didn't want to start with that kind of thing again. Especially with a Winchester.

Merlin's pants, Harry thought, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed for himself. He shouldn't even have this kind of daft ideas in his head. He felt his cheeks go red.

If Dean noticed it, he didn't comment.

They spent the next few minutes in silence until Dean exclaimed, rather loudly, waking everyone in the car, "What the hell, Harry!"

Harry didn't need to ask. Outside, on the level of Dean's side window was an owl, flying almost as fast as Dean's car, getting behind, and then catching up again. It was a beautiful black owl, and Harry immediately recognized it.

"What – what happened?" Ron was asking, turning his head around sleepily and frantically, and drawing out his wand.

"What? What it is?" said Sam, also having woken up. Unlike Ron though, Sam woke up immediately and completely, all trace of sleep gone within a moment. It was kind of scary. But then again, Sam was a rather scary person.

"It's Sirius!" Harry said, elbowing Ron and pointing outside the car. Ron blinked a few times, trying to focus. "Dean, open the window – let him in!"

"What the hell!" Dean repeated stubbornly, but opened the window anyway, looking like he considered the whole situation utterly ridiculous. "You have an owl? _Seriously_?"

"It's not mine," Harry said, watching Ron take Sirius in his hands. He still felt a tiny pang of sadness every time he called the owl by its name even in his mind. "It's Ron's and his wife's."

"Why do you guys have an owl?" Sam said with an expression that said a lot about how sane, exactly, he thought Harry and Ron were.

" _Obviously_ , for mailing," Ron said slowly, as if talking to a retarded child. "Why else would I have an owl?"

"For mailing?" Dean repeated incredulously. "I thought you guys were all high-tech, why on earth would you send someone mail with an owl? Couldn't you just e-mail stuff?"

"Couldn't we just what?" Ron said, confused. Now Dean looked at him like Ron was exceptionally daft. It was beginning to look like a staring contest.

"E-mailing? You know, like on a computer?"

"Oh!" Ron exclaimed, his hands flying around, nearly smacking the owl in process. "I know of those com-pu-ters!" He spelled out carefully. "My Dad loves them! He always talks about how you muggles can search all kinds of stuff on those! And how you can use the Intro-net and ask it anything and it will give the answer in a second! We should've asked it how to kill Voldemort," he finished with regret.

Both Dean and Sam were looking at him like he suddenly had two heads.

"First of all, Ron," Harry said, "no, it doesn't work like that – it wouldn't have given us the answer on how to kill Voldemort. Secondly, Dean, no, wizards don't use computers or cell-phones or any other electronics. It won't even work in magical community. We prefer to do everything the old-school way. Thirdly, Ron, will you ever open that letter?"

"Hey, it's a Howler!" Ron said, looking at the bright red envelope with apprehension. Harry guessed he still remembered that letter from Mrs. Weasley in second year that screamed loudly enough for the whole Great Hall to hear. "It's from Hermione!"

"What's a Howler?" Sam asked, looking resigned and not surprised at all anymore. Harry wagered he and Dean just stopped being surprised at some point and started to just feel tired with every new piece of magical thing they had to come across. Harry felt bad for them.

"It's a letter that was charmed to speak. You know, like a recorded version of a message."

"You don't use phones but you send recorded messages?" Dean said dubiously. "That's kinda dumb."

"Hey!" Ron said, offended, glaring at Dean without any malice though. He hastened to open the Howler.

The enveloped sprang to life in the middle of the salon. Hermione's voice sounded loud enough for Dean to startle.

" _Ron! Harry! We were attacked! I don't know who they were but they looked like the Ministry. I don't think they were, though. They came with a lot of Dementors, so I couldn't cast a Patronus; I still can't. Kids and me are fine. I sent them to Molly. I couldn't find out anything about who the attackers were – they disappeared rather quickly. I am joining you as soon as I learn where you are. I can't track you so the spells are working well. Sent me a Patronus whenever you can, so I can find you. Love you, Ron! See you soon!_ "

The Howler stopped and then proceeded to rip itself in pieces. Harry cast a glance at Ron, who continued to look at the place in the air the Howler used to be just a second ago, frozen.

"Ron, mate, Hermione and the kids are fine, it's okay!" Harry hastened to say to calm Ron down. He, himself, felt both dread and relief that they were fine filling his insides.

"Blimey, Harry!" Ron said, his voice raspy. "They were attacked! My wife and kids were attacked!"

"I know mate, I heard Hermione. My kid was also there with them," He reminded Ron.

"Were they the same guys who attacked us yesterday?" Sam spoke, and Ron looked at him a bit shocked, like he forgot Sam and Dean were still there.

"I bet they were! Those bloody bastards!" Ron hissed furiously, his anger having no particular aim. Harry knew how easy it was for Ron to blame the Winchesters and get mad at them, but Ron didn't, and Harry was glad for the small things.

"We should deal with them as soon as possible," Sam said, and by his tone Harry realized that Sam understood the look on Ron's face. Sam's tone sounded like an apology.

"I'm sorry your family got attacked, man," Dean said, and he sounded so sincere that some of Ron's rage dissolved.

"It's not your fault," Ron admitted, but by the look on Dean's face Harry could tell Dean had already convinced himself that it was. "Hey, we need to stop and send Hermione a Patronus!"

"What's a Patronus?" Sam asked dully.

"You'll see as soon as we stop," Ron said.

Dean pulled over. They were in the middle of the woods, no one but them on the road.

"Hey, stay in the car!" Harry said to the brothers. "They are probably going to assault us again as soon as we step out."

"He's right," Sam agreed. Dean looked ready to argue, though. "Dean."

Sam said Dean's name powerfully and convincingly, carrying much more meaning in a single word than Harry or Ron could hear.

"Alright," Dean said, giving up.

Harry opened the door and stepped out of the car cautiously. Nothing.

After a moment Ron followed him.

Nothing happened. They were still alone.

Harry walked around the car, looking at the woods. He saw no movement and heard nothing but occasional bird singing.

"Brilliant," Harry said, pulling out his smokes. "I can have a fag now, _finally_."

"Fine, indulge in your bad habit," Ron grumbled. "I think it's safe, guys," he told Dean and Sam.

The Winchesters climbed out of the car.

As soon as they did, about five robed figures appeared out of thin air, wand pointing at Harry and Ron.

"Blimey!" He heard Ron swear, and with the corner of his eye saw Sam pulling Dean down and out of the fighting zone.

 _Here we go,_ Harry thought, pulling out his wand with a speed of lightning and moving away from a spell just as fast. _And I've just started my smoke._


	5. Meet the Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings (if anyone's still here by this point)! It's been almost two years now. WOW. I can't believe it's been so long, and I can't believe someone's still going to read that after all that time. Anyway, here I am again, back and determined to finish at least some of my stories (I'm halfway with that, already).  
> So enjoy the next part. I reckon I'll try to get a couple parts more done within the following month. We'll see, we'll see…

Feeling useless and helpless around Harry and Ron was starting to feel like a habit for Dean lately. It was becoming rather routine: bad guys appear, Sam pulls Dean down and out, Harry and Ron epically fight the bad guys and be heroes.

Not that there was something, exactly, that Dean could do to help the situation. Not that the bullets of his gun would actually reach any of the villains.

Not that he had any magic in him.

Lately, Dean had somehow begun to wish he had.

He felt Sam’s tight grip on him, forbidding him to move, lest he got into the fire zone. At least Sam was there, right beside him, and for a several moments Dean didn’t have to worry about his brother. At least he had that. God knew Dean considered that a privilege nowadays.

He saw Harry almost get hit by some nasty-looking flash of light. His body jerked forward, his instincts screaming at him to come out and fight, tear those bastards apart and protect Harry.

He felt Sam squeezing his hand even tighter. He stayed back.

Dean didn’t know how long, exactly, this lasted but at some point he noticed he couldn’t hear the sounds of fighting anymore. He dared to open his eyes that he couldn’t recall closing.

Harry was fighting the last one of the men, the others seemingly having been defeated. Ron joined soon and together they finally managed to knock out the last guy, who fell on the ground, unmoving.

They breathed heavily, Ron bent down almost in two, his hands on his knees. Sam looked around and, seeming to have deemed it safe, got up, pulling Dean with him.

“What the hell, Harry?” Dean said weakly, feeling vaguely ridiculous at having said that for what felt like a thousand times already in the last few days. It started to feel like his personal catch phrase now. “Was that _us_ who got that guys here?”

“I reckon that was,” Harry said, trying to catch his breath. He looked wrecked. “Whatever it was, it reacts to you and Sam. As long as you are in the car, under the protection of the spells, you are safe. But as soon as you come out…”

He trailed off, looking around pointedly. There was no need to finish that sentence – the evidence of what happened when Sam and Dean left the car was lying right there on the ground.

“Harry, I swear to Merlin, I can’t keep on like that,” Ron whined, finally standing straight. “I’m not seventeen anymore!”

“Yeah, you are actually a trained Auror now, not a desperate teenager, Ron,” Harry reminded him. “Isn’t that the job you dreamed of? Fighting bad guys, being a hero?”

“Oh I’ve fought enough, thank you very much,” Ron grumbled, but Dean noticed he stood a little straighter now. “Anyway, what are these? Are they actually wizards?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Harry said.

He and Ron walked to one of the men lying on the ground. Harry leaned over him, pointing his wand at the guy and muttering something.

“Okay, he’s not gonna go anywhere. Ron?”

“ _Rennervate_ ,” Ron muttered, pointing his wand at the guy. He slowly opened his eyes, but seemed unable to move the rest of his body.

“Who are you?” said Harry.

“My name is Agares,” said the guy monotonously.

Behind Dean, Sam came to live.

“Agares?! What the- Agares is a _demon_ , Dean, what the hell is it doing here?”

“A demon?” Ron repeated dubiously, looking at Dean rather strangely. Dean rolled his eyes. Close-minded wizards, thinking that nothing else exists besides them and their almighty magic and whatever.

“Are you a demon?” Dean demanded, looking down at the guy and turning on his bad cop voice.

“I am a demon from Hell, yes,” the man answered and his eyes turned black.

“Whoa,” Ron squeaked, rather unmanly, his arms flying around. “Do you see that? Do you see his eyes?”

“Relax, buddy,” Dean said, finally, _finally_ feeling some of the control over the situation. At last, something came up of his and Sam’s area. “Nothing me and Sam can’t handle here.”

“So what do we actually do with a _demon_?” Harry asked, and Dean was pretty pleased to see how incredulous Harry looked. Finally _he_ managed to impress the wizard.

He felt way too proud at the thought.

“We exorcize it,” Sam said simply.

“ _Exorcize_ it? Do you guys do that a lot?” Ron said.

“Exorcizing is something of a specialty of ours, Ron,” Dean said smugly, as Sam prepared for the exorcism, opening up the car trunk and getting all the necessary stuff.

“Whom do you work for?” Dean asked in the meantime. “Who sent you?”

“Crowley sent me,” The demon answered.

“Not Crowley again,” Sam muttered, wincing.

“Who’s Crowley?” Ron wondered.

“A demonic son of a bitch, is what he is,” Dean said, “One of you, anyway. Or, at least, he was.”

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned.

“British. All suits and ‘cup o’ tea’,” Dean smirked.

“Right, that’s all we are about, Dean. Cups of tea, the Queen, and ‘keeping calm and carrying on’” Harry said, rolling his eyes. Ron just shook his head.

“How does he track us?” Dean demanded, turning to the demon once more.

“It’s the power of the medallion,” Demon said, and Dean frowned, confused. Behind him, Sam froze. “One of you has it.”

“What medallion?” Dean asked no one in particular. He turned to look at Sam, who was suspiciously silent and still. Come to think of it, Sam had his Constipation Face, and won’t meet Dean’s eyes. “Sammy?” he demanded.

Sam still wasn’t looking at him.

“Sam?” Dean called again.

Slowly, looking as if he was just sentenced to painful death, Sam started moving, undoing the top buttons of his shirt and stuffing his hand inside. Then, looking anywhere but Dean, he pulled out something Dean thought he would never see again.

Dean’s amulet: the one that Sam gave him all those years ago. The one he thoughtlessly threw out in the garbage.

Dean felt his throat closing, making it hard to breathe.

“You,” he tried, but his voice came out raspy, as if he hadn’t used it in a while. “You have it – How?”

“I pulled it out of the trash bin as soon as you walked away, Dean” Sam said quietly, maybe because they had audience or maybe because he found it just as difficult to speak as Dean did. “It might not mean anything to you anymore, but it still means _everything_ to me.”

Even though Dean could see how hard Sam tried to control the expression on his face, he still sounded and looked so damn hurt and small and every inch the little brother he was. Dean felt his eyes prickle. He looked at Sam incredibly, still refusing to believe his own eyes, refusing to believe that it all could still be repaired and fixed even after everything they’ve gone though.

“But – but how?” He dropped his voice down to a whisper, careful not to let Harry and Ron hear. As much as he trusted them, they were still pretty much just strangers, and he wasn’t ready to trust them with _that_. “You went to hell, Sammy, you came back without a soul, how come you still have it?”

“It was around my neck when I fell into the pit,” Sam murmured, looking at the ground. “I guess I was pulled out with it, as well, even though it was only my body that left. And, well, even though I didn’t have a soul back then, something still stopped me from throwing it out. Apparently even Robo-Sam felt how important it was.”

Dean stood there, completely flabbergasted, looking at his little brother. He suddenly felt like hugging Sam so hard he would feel his bones crack. He didn’t though, since the Winchester family wasn’t too fond of physical display of emotions, and after all they did only hug after another near-death experience. His silence must have spoken something to Sam, because he looked even more uncomfortable and miserable.

“Dean, it doesn’t- ” he started saying.

“Can I have it back?” Dean whispered, feeling too small and vulnerable himself. He cursed about having to do this in front of two other men.

For the first time since they touched the topic of the amulet, Sam looked Dean in the eye.

“It’s yours, Dean,” he whispered back, “You can have it as long as you want it.”

And he held it out for Dean to take.

Having the familiar weight of it around his neck felt better than anything Dean had experienced for a long time. Sam was looking at him, giving him a tiny tentative smile.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean rasped out. “I’m sorry for ever throwing it out.”

He felt his words didn’t quite express all the myriad emotions he was feeling, but then again, Dean was never good with either words or emotions. He wanted to say a lot of things, he wanted Sam to know how important this was, how important _Sam_ was, but he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Sam seemed like he understood, though, and his smile turned bigger and happier.

“I’m really sorry to interrupt you guys,” Harry said tentatively from behind them, and Dean started, having forgotten for a moment that they weren’t alone. “But this amulet was probably the reason these people – _demons_ – are here. Could I have a look at it?”

Dean looked at him, suddenly feeling very protective and possessive of the amulet. He absolutely didn’t want to give it away just when he got it back after such a long time. Especially he didn’t want to hand it to someone who could put some magic mojo on it.

“Dean,” Sam said with a meaning.

“Alright, take it,” Dean gave up, taking it from around his neck. The black leather felt warm in his hand. “But should anything happen to it, I’ll kill you.”

Judging from the way Harry took a small step back, he sounded pretty serious. He immediately felt bad for threatening a person who went through such an effort to keep him and Sam safe, especially knowing that Harry wouldn’t steal or destroy his amulet.

“Don’t worry,” Harry said much colder than a moment ago. Dean felt his stomach drop a tiny bit. “I’ll just take a look to find out what magic has been put on it.”

He took his wand out and started waving it around the amulet, murmuring something under his breath. Dean couldn’t make out what exactly he was saying. Ron stood silently, hovering over Harry’s shoulder.

This went on for what felt like half an hour but in reality was probably a few minutes. Finally, Harry said, “You said it went to Hell with Sam, correct?”

Dean bristled, indignant over the fact that Harry still managed to overhear him. “So what of it?” He snapped, regretting it again, as he saw Harry’s eyes narrow and his expression turn blank.

“Hell left a very noticeable mark on it. I can feel the darkness radiating from it like waves. It has enough dark energy to let the demons find you.”

He fell silent, looking up at Ron.

“But I have been bringing it around for the last year!” Sam said, frowning. “How come they started finding us just now?”

“It has some other magic on it that I’ve never encountered before,” Ron said, looking down at the locket. “I don’t know what kind of magic that is, but it’s been helping you to avoid being found.”

 _Must be Cas,_ Dean thought, though aloud he said, “So why isn’t it working anymore?”

Ron sighed, “I can’t say for sure, I think Harry here can’t either, since we don’t exactly know anything about this type of magic, but I can assume,” He winced, looking regretful, “that when we put charms on you, it influenced the amulet in a way that it reacted to the magic we put on the car since they can’t track us while we are inside, but probably starts to send twice as dark signal whenever Sam steps outside and out of the magic zone.”

“So what are you saying, exactly?” Dean asked, not liking where the conversation was leading.

“We are saying,” Harry stepped in, “that we don’t know one bloody bit about that kind of magic and can’t say for sure. The only thing I’m certain about here is that this thing is dark, _very_ dark. It feels… _wrong_ in my hands.”

Dean got angry in a matter of seconds. “Then give it back, no one’s forcing you to have it in your goddamn sensitive hands!” He snapped, snatching the amulet and putting it back on his neck. He didn’t care one bit what they were saying about it; it was Dean’s and belonged on his neck, whatever they might have thought about it. No one would take his amulet from him again.

“Listen here, lad,” Ron said, stepping into Dean’s personal space and looking dangerous. Dean’s hand automatically reached his knife, and his fingers closed around its handle. “Every time you get out of the car that thing sends every demon your exact location. Now these demons of yours here,” he pointed to the men lying on the ground, “they know we are here with you so they are using the wizards, not muggles! See the robes? Those are the Ministry’s robes and these guys were using their wands alright! Now I don’t know what exactly they are doing with those blokes, but these demons can use their magic!” He took a breath from his rant; “Harry and I won’t be around forever, especially with that attitude of yours, to protect you from the bad guys! Harry has already been seriously injured -”

“Ron -” Harry tried to interject, but Ron went on as if he was not interrupted.

“Seriously injured, trying to protect your ungrateful arses, so if he says this thing is dark then dark it bloody is! If he says you need to get rid of that thing – then you do just that!”

He finally finished, looking wild and breathing heavily. Dean felt his hand had almost taken out the knife to put it to Ron’s neck. He breathed out, trying to chill.

“I’m not saying you have to get rid of the amulet, Dean, I assume it must mean a lot to you,” said Harry, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder, as if holding back an angry dog. “I’m saying that I don’t like the feel of it, but then again, I don’t even know what, exactly, is wrong with it.”

“So what do we do?” Dean said through grit teeth.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. There was silence, during which Dean could hear himself breathing so hard he might have as well run ten miles.

“Wait!” Harry suddenly said, his eyebrows going up. “We forgot to let Hermione know where we are! Hey, she might know what to do with that,” he gestured on the locket.

“Merlin’s pants, Harry, you’re right! Blimey I forgot about my own wife here. Oh, she will be mad,” Ron said, wincing and looking extremely guilty. The air of danger that was surrounding him a moment ago seemed to have blown away in the face of a raging wife.

“She won’t know, Ron,” Harry said, drawing his wand out again. “I’ll send her a Patronus.”

He waved his wand and suddenly there was a beautiful brilliant stag right beside them, shining and glowing a soft silver light. All of a sudden Dean felt happy and peaceful, like everything in the world would be great and safe. He smiled, and the stag looked at Dean, but before he could really look at it or touch it, it was gone as sudden as it had appeared.

“What was that?” asked Dean, staring stupidly to the spot where the stag was only a second ago.

“That was a Patronus,” said Harry. “The accumulation of the good energy. It becomes corporal after you practice it enough and has a form of an animal. Mine is a stag. Ron’s here is a retriever.”

“I felt so… happy,” Dean said, still somehow dazed. He looked at Sam, who looked pretty much like Dean felt.

“It makes sense,” Ron explained, seemingly having calmed down. “To create a Patronus you must use the happiest memories you have. That’s why you felt an echo of Harry’s happiness. Harry has always been great with Patronuses, his is a very powerful one. And don’t you even try and deny it!” He told Harry.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry muttered, looking back at the people lying on the ground. “Now, please, tell me, how, exactly, do you exorcise demons?”

“Ah, the subtle art of exorcism,” Dean said in a very professional tone of voice, and as he glanced at Sam, he saw his brother giving him a funny look. “I’m afraid it can’t be taught, my friend. You have to be born with the talent.”

“Dean, name me one person who has been ‘born with the talent’ of excorcing demons,” Sam said dubiously from behind him.

“Oh, ok, alright,” Dean glared at Sam, “you traitor. I was trying to paint some bright colors on the dark and moody job of a hunter.”

If it was even possible, Sam was giving him a funnier look than before.

“Dean, quit waxing poetic about hunting, and help me paint the devil’s traps,” Sam said finally, shaking his head a bit.

As they prepared for the exorcism, drawing devil’s traps and salting whatever piece of earth they could get their hands on, Dean finally relaxed a bit.  Feeling in control of the situation for the first time in what felt like forever was a rather pleasant change. He glanced at Sam, seeing his brother’s previously tense shoulders also relaxing.

Just as he and Sam stood up finally, ready to start the exorcism, a silver otter appeared out of nowhere, bright and brilliant, much as Harry’s stag had been. It opened its mouth and spoke with a pleasant, although rather controlling and tense female voice: “I’ll be there in a moment,” the otter said and was gone with a blink of an eye. The surge of happiness that Dean was starting to feel was gone with the otter, too.

“Let me guess,” Sam drawled next to him, “Patronus?”

“Yep,” said Ron, looking at the same time excited and terrified. “That was my dear wife.”

“What, the otter?” Dean said, confused.

“Not the otter itself – its voice,” Harry explained. “A Patronus is often used as means to send messages. The voice you’ve just heard was Hermione’s, Ron’s wife. The otter is the animal form of her Patronus.”

“Right,” Dean muttered, the ever-cherished feeling of being in control rapidly slipping away.

Right in that moment there was a quiet _pop_ sound. Gripping his gun Dean swung around, immediately recognizing the sound. So far he’d learnt not to expect anything remotely good from a sound of wizards teleporting around.

The sight that opened to his eyes when he turned around, though, didn’t suggest any particular feelings of danger. The girl, or young woman, that appeared right next to the Impala looked tiny standing next to Ron or Sam; she had bushy brown hair tied in a braid, nice pleasant face, and was just overall rather pretty. She was wearing normal clothes – jeans and a sweater, and looked comfortable enough in them. Also she looked quite upset.

“RONALD!” She barked as if she were a military commander. As soon as her eyes lay on her husband, all of a sudden Ron didn’t look so huge anymore. “It’s been days! _Days!_ You didn’t think to let me know where you two went off to, didn’t you! I’ve been beside myself with worry all this time! Wait till Molly finds out about that…”

Dean had no idea who Molly was, but at hearing her name Ron suddenly paled, his eyes going comically wide. Hermione’s eyes sparkled with fury. For a moment Dean got uncomfortable in her company, before he remembered how stupid it was to feel threatened by a tiny angry wife of another dude.

“So what? What do you have to say for yourself, Ronald?” She glared a hole in Ron, who seemed to have shrunk twice his size. Harry coughed gently, apparently deciding to step in and get his buddy out of his misery.

“Hermione -” Harry started to say, but she turned to him in all her rightful fury.

“And you!” She bellowed; Harry had the grace to look embarrassed, “What were you thinking getting in trouble like that! Ginny is so mad with you, just you know that! And getting in a fight with the _Ministry_? How are you going to justify _that_ , Harry, pray tell me!”

She stopped, breathing loudly, her mouth a thin line. No one moved or said anything. In the deafening silence, Hermione suddenly seemed to have spotted the Winchesters. Before he could control his body, Dean took a step back. Judging by the sound of movement next to him, Sam had the brains to do the same.

“So you are the infamous Winchesters,” Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously at Dean and then Sam. Next to them Ron whispered loudly enough for them to hear: “Sorry, guys, but you’re on your own there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said, ever the gentlemen.

“Well I hope you are happy now, having dragged Harry and Ron into this twisted and sick adventure, as if they hadn’t had enough of those to last a lifetime -”

“Hermione, listen -” Harry tried to interrupt again, but she didn’t even acknowledge him.

“And what is all that?” She demanded of Dean, having apparently deemed him as the one in charge between the two of them. Dean swallowed. Hermione’s wand was gripped tight in her hand as it was flying around, gesturing, and trying to convey the obvious and endless stupidity of the entire group.

“These are the devil’s trap, ma’am,” Sam responded politely, although, Dean thought, Hermione was probably younger than Sam.

“The devil’s trap,” she repeated slowly, frowning.

“Indeed. We’ve drawn them in order to exorcise the demon over there,” Sam retorted, gesturing to that Agares demon still magically bound and gagged. Hermione was looking at him intensely.

“Exorcise the demon,” Hermione repeated again, slowly, her voice suddenly calm and even a bit friendly.

“Yup. We are hunters, sweetheart, that’s what we do,” Dean smirked at her. She let her eyes settle on Dean, looking him up and down.

“An exorcism!” She suddenly exclaimed, now looking like an excited child. The change was so drastic, Dean stood there in shock for a moment, before catching up. “How interesting and exciting!” She turned to Ron, who looked relieved beyond expression. He grinned at her encouragingly. “I can’t believe I am going to witness an actual live exorcism! I have, of course, read _Exorcism of Ghosts_ and the _Origin of Demons_ , but I just can’t believe I can watch a real exorcism!”

She looked like she was going to jump up and down with excitement. Ron risked coming near her.

“See, darling, I knew you’d love that,” He said, and she glared at him half-heartedly.

“Do you know Latin?” She asked Sam.

“Yes. I had to learn some when I first started exorcising demons, and then had to learn some when I got into Stanford law…”

“You went to Stanford law?” Hermione said, awed. Dean groaned. “That is so wonderful! I’ve read lots about Stanford, that is a very hard school to get into!”

“Well…” Sam muttered, looking down, and Dean saw with astonishment that Sam’s cheeks were bright pink.

“I am actually a magical lawyer,” said Hermione brightly. “I work in the department of Magical Creatures.”

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Sam suddenly said, still red as a beet and holding out his hand. “Sam Winchester,” he said.

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione replied, shaking his hand and smiling prettily. Ron coughed loudly. “Granger-Weasley, Hermione _Granger-Weasley_.” She corrected herself, rolling her eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Sam said, still not letting go of her hand.

“Oh pleasure’s all mine,” Hermione smiled.

Dean sighed heavily; Sam better remember this girl’s married, and to a powerful witch – _wizard_ – no less. Ron won’t just kick Sam’s ass if he deems it necessary, but kick Sam’s ass _magically_ , like, turn him into a frog or something.

He sighed again.

They better get down to exorcising, sometime this century, please.


	6. Now Meet Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to anyone who’s still here! Now lads, I’m really sorry, I realize this is taking way too long to get done, but I have too much going on in my life. I’ve moved to another country (again), and it’s all very complicated for me and theres’s no free time whatsoever except for that after midnight – but I sleep require sleep to be able to function and write more or this lame slashy shite…   
> Anyway, here’s another part, Sam’s POV, this time. I can’t promise I’ll get this story done soon, but I promise I’ll get it done someday. I can definitely promise that reviews will quicken the process up, though…  
> Enjoy ☺

**_Meet Malfoy._ **

Speaking to Hermione turned out to be far more exciting than Sam could ever imagine talking to a witch, or rather, a woman, would be. At least since Jessica, but that now seemed several lifetimes ago. Apart from being very pleasant to talk to (after having calmed down), Hermione turned out to be amazingly sharp and brilliant, not to mention educated to no end. Sam felt he had finally found someone at his level (or, even far beyond his level) of education and knowledge of all the things he was interested in.

“…And since then,” Hermione was saying animatedly, full of excitement, her eyes shining brightly, “house elves are officially free to choose their own master and are entitled to a compensation for their hard work…”

“Guess how happy they are about that…” Ron muttered behind her back quietly, but Hermione turned her face to him, which turned furious in a matter of seconds.

“You have something you want to say, Ronald?” She hissed.

Ron swallowed audibly. “Only that you look unbelievably beautiful today, love!”

Hermione snorted loudly. Ron kept grinning so widely it looked like his whole face was in pain.

“Oh, by the way,” Hermione suddenly said, “Where’s Sirius?”

“Em…” Harry said and looked at Dean’s car. They all turned to see the owl sitting in the driver’s seat of the Impala. Sam turned to look at Dean, already expecting it any second now – and…

“Dammit!” Dean yelled. Sam rolled his eyes. “You better hope there’s no bird shit anywhere in my baby!”

“Owls are very clever birds, Mr. Winchester,” Hermione pointed out, her lips pursed in a thin line. Something told Sam she didn’t really take to Dean so far. “And Sirius is a very well-behaved owl!”

“Yeah right, tell that to my trimming!” Dean was saying, studiously checking every inch of the seat where the owl was just sitting. The owl flew out of the car as soon as the door was open and with an indignant huff at Dean flew over and got comfortable on Ron’s shoulder. The sight was rather weird, to say the least, seeing a grown man – as tall as Sam himself – with a sophisticated black owl sitting on his shoulder. Sam turned back to Dean, or rather, to Dean’s ass sticking out of the car salon, which Dean was still checking for owl shit. Now that was a sentence Sam didn’t think he’d ever think.

“Dean come on, I thought you were the one who wanted to show off your exorcism skills.”

“Yeah, yeah, coming,” Dean said, crawling out of the car, looking both relieved at apparently having found no bird shit, and disappointed at Hermione being right. Sam sighed heavily.

“Alright people!” Dean said, rubbing his hands, “Now let the _real_ magic begin!” And then he looked at Harry. Sam paused: he knew that look; in fact he knew it too well. That was the way Dean usually looked at girls he really wanted to impress.

_Oh Dean, what the actual hell…_

Dean winked at Harry. And it was not the friendly, partners-in-crime wink as well, it was the deliberately seductive, _I’m-really-liking-what-I-see-and-how-about-you_ Dean-wink. _Jesus Christ, what does Dean think he’s doing here?_ He looked at Harry’s reaction. Harry was standing there looking confused and slightly flushed, his cheeks the lightest of pink. Sam sighed and shook his head silently; out of the corner of his eyes he saw Ron rolling his eyes and Hermione nudging him with her elbow.

“Wait, Dean,” Sam said before his brother started with the Latin. “We haven’t found out why the hell Crowley sent all these to get us!”

“Did you hear that?” Dean said to the demon that identified himself as Agares. “What does your douchebag of a boss want from us?”

“I am not at liberty to say,” the demon smirked. “And even if I was, I wouldn’t have told you two idiots!”

“Sammy, start reading,” Dean ordered, his jaw tight and eyes never leaving the demon’s. Sam actually, _finally_ , started the exorcism.

“You morons!” Agares yelled, twitching and shaking. “You idiots! We will get to you and we well kill you, just as we killed your mother and your bastard of a father!”

“Shut the hell up!” Dean yelled in response, and Sam tried to read louder. The demon screamed and yelled and shook, until finally it emerged from the body in a concentration of black smoke. Sam fell silent, breathing heavily. Somehow, he felt sleepy and exhausted, even though he slept not so long ago. He thought the reconciliation with Dean and his amulet must have left him emotionally drained.

“Okay, one down, four more to go,” Dean said with extremely fake enthusiasm and cheerfulness. Sam badly wanted to touch him and reassure him and tell him it’s all going to be fine.

He silently nodded.

“You lads can take a rest if you want?” Harry suggested uncertainly, and Sam looked at him. Harry was frowning and looking at Dean with unhidden concern and worry.

“We are fine,” Dean cut him off, not even looking at Harry. The wizard fell silent and didn’t speak again.

“This was absolutely brilliant!” Hermione exclaimed, looking awed and excited beyond reason. Sam suddenly felt irrationally proud of himself. _She’s happily married with kids,_ _you idiot_ , he reminded himself inwardly. He still felt immensely pleased with himself to have impressed such a brilliant and pretty young witch.

“Oh, that was nothing, really,” he muttered modestly and saw Dean rolling his eyes pointedly.

“That was not nothing, Mr. Winchester!” She argued in her unbelievably sexy accent that felt like a symphony to Sam’s ears. “I have never seen someone perform an exorcism in such a professional way, not to mention your absolutely excellent knowledge of Latin!”

“I know some Latin!” Said Ron suddenly, and Harry coughed out what sounded like a chuckle. Ron glared at him. “What? I do!”

“Saying spells is not knowing Latin, Ronald,” Hermione huffed out, lips immediately pursed. “The only language that you speak besides English is the one you use that resembles it when Harry drags you back home after night out in a pub, and you can be assured I cannot understand a word from you then.”

Ron looked down, red as a beet and clearly embarrassed. Harry, on the other hand, seemed deeply amused.

“Well, I understand him just fine after the pub,” Harry said, smirking.

“That is because you both make no real conversation. In fact, my three-year-old daughter speaks better English than you two at this stage.” Hermione retorted.

“Come on, Hermione,” Harry pleaded, his arms going up in pretend surrender. “By the way, did I mention you look extremely beautiful today?”

“Already tried it, mate,” Ron muttered, not lifting his head.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter!” Hermione said, although Sam could see she fought real hard to keep the corners of her mouth down. There was no real heat left in her arguments, too. “I am mad at you, too!”

“No you’re not, you love us!” Ron grinned, seeing his wife was not of any danger anymore.

Hermione just sighed very loudly and rolled her eyes very pointedly, bringing the conversation to an end.

“Come on, Sam, let’s finish here,” Dean said behind him, and although he still looked tired, he no longer looked angry. In fact, there was a tiny, barely-noticeable smile on his lips.

 _Maybe,_ Sam thought, _having this crazy bunch of wizards around is not so bad after all. At least for some comic relief…_

And they went on with the exorcism.

***HP/SPN***

“Dean, could you give your amulet to Hermione?” Harry said very tentatively after Sam and Dean were finished with the demons. “She will up with a solution.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Dean barked, glaring at Harry. The wizard actually took a step back, his face turning unreadable. Dean’s face immediately softened.

“Alright, but just for a minute!” Dean gave up after a moment of thought. Sam shook his head; how could this be happening? Dean has only known this guy for a day, how could he be already demonstrating all those dangerous symptoms of a person with a crush?

Hermione took the amulet with a care a mother would display while holding a newborn baby, obviously having caught up with the fact it was not just a medallion for Dean, but something grater than that. She looked at is this way and that, waved her wand around it, muttering something to herself, her frown getting deeper and deeper.

Finally, she looked up, expression of shame on her face.

“I… I’m so sorry, but I… I don’t know what it is,” She said very quietly. Ron stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads.

“You don’t know?” He repeated incredulously. “I mean, _you_ – _Hermione_ – don’t know?!”

“I just said I don’t, Ron!”

Harry just stood there silently, chewing on his lip.

“If you don’t know, then who the hell does?” Dean exclaimed, clearly dissatisfied with Hermione’s services. “And what are we supposed to do with it now?”

“Well, as you said before,” Sam spoke to Ron and Harry, “It sends twice the signal as soon it we leave the car – and the amulet, therefore, leaves the car with us – so why don’t we just keep it _inside_ the car? At least for now?”

“Yes, that might be the best option for now,” Ron agreed, nodding.

“Well,” Hermione said even more quietly, suddenly looking rather guilty. “In the meanwhile, I might know just the person that could help…”

“You do?” Ron’s eyebrows shot up straight to his hairline. “Who do you mean?”

Harry’s eyes widened almost comically.

“Noooooo,” He said, and he looked like a character in the movie that had just discovered there was a bomb that he needed to take out within a minute; his hand flew around wildly, “No, no, no, Hermione, _no!_ ”

“But Harry –“

“NO! You are not going to call him!” Harry yelled.

“But Harry –“

“Hermione, _I said NO!_ It’s out of the question!”

“What am I missing here?” Ron yelled as well, seemingly just to join the fun, looking frantically from Harry to Hermione as if watching a tennis match. “Whom are you lads talking about?”

“MALFOY!” Harry screamed, and Sam gathered that was somebody’s name, and Harry was about as thrilled to see that somebody as he would be to see a gynecologist, at least judging by the way he spat the person’s name like it had the vilest taste in his mouth.

“WHAT!” Ron scream equally loudly, and the situation was rather quickly becoming absurd. “NO, YOU WEREN’T!” He turned to Hermione with a look of supreme betrayal on his face. “TELL ME YOU WEREN’T THINKING ABOUT CALLING MALFOY, HERMIONE!”

“WELL, WHAT IF I WAS?” Hermione yelled back, cocking her chin, and Sam was really getting tired of all the yelling. “IF YOU FORGOT, HE DEALS EXACTLY WITH THINGS LIKE THAT, HE’S AN UNSPEAKABLE!”

“I DON’T CARE IF HE’S MUHAMMAD BLOODY ALI!” Harry roared, his eyes wild. “I’m NEVER SEEING HIS BLOODY FACE AGAIN!”

“Guys, really,” Sam said, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, “We should all just calm down and –“

“Is h, like, your ex-boyfriend or something?” Dean said brilliantly.

Everybody shut up so abruptly as if someone turned down a switch. All the eyes turned to stare a Dean, who for some reason decided it was a wonderful idea to open his craphole of a mouth, without filtering out whatever idiocy was waiting to crawl out of it first.

The silence was turning awkward, and Sam felt so embarrassed for both Dean _and_ himself he just wanted to go shut himself in the Impala and sit there alone, for several years possibly. What the hell did Dean think saying that kind of thing, which was a) totally none of his business, and b) was not supposed to be said with an expression of jealous wife on his face! _Dammit, Dean, could you stop thinking with your dick for ten seconds?_

Sam almost opened his mouth to say something, anything, to just break the impossibly tense silence, when Ron promptly cracked up.

“Ron!” Harry scremed, scandalized and very unmanly, but Ron was already in bits.

“Merlin’s balls…” Ron was saying in between his suffocating laughter attacks, “ _Ex-boyfriend_ – ** _Malfoy_** , oh Merlin, Hermione, have you heard this…”

His face red as a beet, Harry was glaring at Ron murderously. Hermione was trying her best to hide her trembling lips, trying to contain her laughter. Harry turned his deadly glare on her.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said, finally unable to hold herself anymore, “I just imagined you two –“

“ _Please_ , stop imagining me and Malfoy!” Harry winced as if he suddenly had a particularly bad toothache. “I don’t need that kind of image burned to the inside of my eyelids for ever.”

“Harry… mate…” Ron was spitting out words, and suddenly looking about eleven years old. Sam couldn’t believe this guy single-handedly took out several men just hours ago. “Now that I think about it… it does make sense… with you two being _obsessed_ with each other… and…”

“Ron, for Merlin’s sake, just shut the hell up!” Harry yelled, obviously too out of himself to even come up with a decent comeback. “I wasn’t _obsessed_ with him – _he_ was obsessed with me!”

“Riiiight…” Ron grinned cheekily, “Whatever you say, _loverboy_.”

“Ron, that’s enough, now,” Hermione said, still biting her lip. Harry just kept on glaring at Ron, and if looks could kill, Ron’s body would have been rotting by now.

“Harry, what the hell is up with this Malfoy dude?” Dean said, still, _still –_ Sam couldn’t believe it – looking jealous and bitchy. “And what the hell is an ‘unspeakable’?”

Hermione sighed. “Uspeakable – is a wizard or witch who works in the Department of Mysteries,” she explained. “It’s a department that deals with –“

“Love, death, and afterlife,” Dean finished, frowning. Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, yeah, we know about that one, since we are _wanted_ by it…”

“What?” Hermione said, her eyes going even wider. “You are wanted by the _Department of Mysteries?_ ”

“They are not wanted _by_ the Department of Mysteries, they are wanted by the Ministry _for_ research in the Department of Mysteries,” Harry said rather coldly.

“I knew the Ministry wanted them, but I hadn’t a clue the Department of Mysteries was involved…” Hermione frowned. “Still, I believe Malfoy could help, Harry.”

“We are not going to call him!” Harry said again, louder. “And even if we did, he couldn’t help, as he is – as you said it yourself – an Unspeakable!”

Seeing Dean’s and Sam’s questioning looks, Ron hastened to explain, “That means he is tied by a magical law to not disclose any information about what is going on in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t still help us!” Hermione pointed out. “He doesn’t have to disclose anything of his work.”

“He would have to, seeing as how these are the Winchesters and they deal with angles and demons and whatnot, and the amulet is tied in closely to this fact and –“

“This is not in stone, Harry,” Hermione said firmly. Harry looked away, his lips a thin line. “And even if he had to disclose anything – don’t forget about the debt.”

“Oh he can go and _choke_ on the bloody debt, like hell am I going to use it ever!” Harry raged, getting mad in a matter of seconds. Whatever his history was with that Malfoy guy, Sam could bet it was not the most pleasant. It was obviously a very touchy subject for Harry as well, especially judging by the level of wit in his arguments and comebacks since the topic of Malfoy came up.

“Well, Harry, you are going to have to,” Hermione said stonily, looking at him with hard eyes. “I’m sorry, but you dragged me and Ron into this for the purpose of helping these people,” she gestured at Sam and Dean, as if there were too many people here to understand who exactly she meant. “We are risking our jobs here, Harry, and our _lives_ , too, so if by helping them it means that you’re going to have to see Malfoy, then, well, _tough_.”

She finished and stared at him, breathing loudly, her arms crossed on her chest. Harry looked a lot guiltier by the end of her speech; he looked at Ron for help.

“I’m sorry, mate, you know how excited I am myself to see the bloody git again, but Hermione is right – _as you always are, darling!_ ” He finished grinning at Hermione. She rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“What’s the story with this Malfoy dude?” Dean voiced his question again, and Sam sighed heavily. Nobody said anything. “Well?”

“It’s… complicated,” Hermione said curtly.

“Oh, there’s nothing complicated about it, Hermione,” Ron said interjected. “The bloke’s a git and a twat – pardon my French – it’s as simple as that.”

“Can we please not talk about Malfoy anymore?” Harry said, tired and defeated, and by the way he looked and sounded, Sam could say he was already on board of having Malfoy involved, even if he wasn’t too pleased with it.

“Fine, but do you agree we have to contact him?” Hermione pushed one more time.

“Yes, yes, fine, whatever,” Harry admitted looking about as pleased as Dean would be before eating a tofu burger. Harry pulled out a smoke and lit it up.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, scandalized. “I thought I asked you to not smoke in front of me!”

“Well, I thought I asked you to never contact Malfoy for help, but obviously we can’t all get what we want.”

“You’ve never specifically asked for that…” Hermione muttered, and Ron nudged her with his elbow.

“Now you are going to have to bear me smoking a bloody ton of fags to make up for this Malfoy rubbish.”

Hermione shook her head.

“Excellent, now what do you think, Harry, Ron? Should I owl him or would a Patronus be more appropriate?”

“Sending him a bag of rat shite is what would be appropriate,” Ron said.

“Patronus it is then!” Hermione concluded. “That way it’ll be faster and more efficient. Come on, Harry.” And she looked at him expectantly.

“What?” He said, blowing the smoke through his nose.

“Send him a Patronus, Harry, come on,” Hermione repeated, clearly getting annoyed.

“What? Now _I_ have to that? It was your idea!”

“Yes, but it’s not me he owes a Life debt to. And it’s not me or Ron who put us all in this situation in the first place, is it?” Hermione said with a no-bullshit smile on her face that spoke of someone working in Law; Sam knew that expression all too well once.

He felt a tiny stab of regret and nostalgia he almost always got when he thought about his hopelessly lost past. He sighed and shook his head to clear it of the thoughts of Stanford and Law school. He was happy enough.

Wasn’t he?

“Alright, Hermione, _fine!_ ” Harry barked, taking his wand out. Dean looked excited suddenly. “But you gotta stop guilt tripping me into things!”

He did some complicated wand movements and why on earth was Sam thinking about Stanford in the first place? He was perfectly happy here as he was with Dean and the Impala, and even this weird bunch of magic people with them! He was happy and it was all perfect and wonderful, he could keep doing it till the end of his life, he has never been happier and more content before in his entire life…

“Wow,” he heard Dean’s voice and opened his eyes he hadn’t even noticed he closed. There it was again – the beautiful ephemeral animal – the stag – silver-golden, standing there and looking proud and noble and calm. He saw Dean’s hand coming up to touch it, and the stag didn’t move; it let Dean touch his head and pet him in between his beautiful tree-like horns. “It’s amazing,” Dean whispered and he looked as happy as Sam felt.

Sam stared. Jesus, he couldn’t believe it was that long since he last saw Dean being happy, really truly happy, as he was being at that moment, petting Harry’s magical stag. Dean’s eyes shone, the patches of silver-golden light dancing in his eyes, as he looked at the animal, small happy smile on his lips.

Sam loved him _impossibly._

It was hard to breathe suddenly, this feeling, this bittersweet emotion suffocating him and he swallowed, hard, past the cotton in his mouth. In two giant steps he crossed the distance between him and Dean and got his brother in the most bone-crushing hug he could possibly manage. He expected Dean to fight it, but instead he embraced Sam back with just as much force. They stood like that, embracing each other for what felt like the first time in _ages_ , and Sam felt high on the emotion, on this happiness and his love for Dean, for his dear, sweet, loving Dean, his person, his best friend, his –

Suddenly, it was over as quickly as it started. The overwhelming happiness and warmness were gone as well, and he felt dizzy with the loss of it. He wanted to cry suddenly, fall on the ground and just bawl his eyes out and sob and sob and sob… He stepped away from Dean and the same crushed look on his brother’s face, as if all of Dean’s dreams and hopes had just been destroyed right in front of him. Sam felt so weary he could fall asleep on the spot. He guessed this was what the drug addicts felt coming down after a fix. He could almost sympathize.

“It’s alright,” Harry said, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s arm twitched all the way down from the spot Harry’s fingers touched his skin through endless layers of Dean’s shirts and jackets. Dean closed his eyes briefly. “Some people have this reaction to a Patronus, it’s rare but not unheard of.”

Neither Dean nor Sam said anything. If Dean were at least half as embarrassed as Sam felt, he wouldn’t say anything for a long time now.

“Actually, the happier you feel, the more crushing an experience with a Dementor is going to feel,” Harry added thoughtfully. “We might want to keep an eye out for those, just in case.”

“A what now?” Dean said, looking anywhere but at Harry. He still hadn’t shrugged off Harry’s hand from his shoulder, though.

“A Dementor – it’s…” He trailed of, as if not sure how to explain it. “The creatures that feed on people’s happiness and souls.”

“Wow, they sound really lovely,” Dean said, sighing.

“Don’t they?” Harry snorted, “Patronus here is originally created to keep the Dementors away, apart from sending Malfoy SOS messages,” He glared at Hermione again, but it lacked any actual heat.

“Anyway, if you feel really unhappy and sad, you must immediately tell me,” Harry stated.

“Why, are you my personal shrink now?” Dean smirked in a way he must have fancied was seductive and flirty and in reality was ridiculous and lame, Sam thought. “I could tell you all about my deep and sad inner side, you just need to ask.”

“No, because that means there is probably a Dementor around,” Harry said, the corners of his mouth twitching. Dean made an odd sound – half cough, half choke. Sam could drown in all the awkwardness.

“Hey, Dean,” he called, “may I talk to you for a sec? _Privately._ Please, excuse us.”

“Jesus, what now, Sam?” Dean grumbled. “Oh no, and he has the bitch-face on…”

“Let’s go over there,” Sam said, grabbing Dean’s arm and dragging him away from the group so no one could overhear them. They walked for a few minutes. “Now. What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What do you mean?” Dean said, bored expression on his face.

“Oh don’t play dump with me, Dean – although god knows I sometimes think you’re not even pretending – I mean Harry!”

“Yeah, what about him?” Dean replied, lips pursing, and whatever Dean liked to say about Sam’s bitchface, it clearly ran in the family.

“You know what about him! Can you contain your dick? This is just embarrassing!”

“What?” Dean said, and this time he actually looked a bit confused.

“Your libido, Dean, turn it down! You are not seventeen anymore and this is not high school. We have to be around those people 24/7. Now it just can’t go smoothly and quickly if you want to sleep with this guy and make a point of hitting on him every ten seconds in front of his friends!”

There were several emotions flashing on Dean’s face almost at once, so quickly that even Sam couldn’t tell them for sure, but he thought he saw sadness and even hurt. Dean looked away.

“Sure,” Dean said, and it sounded too fake to Sam’s ears. “I’m gonna watch my dick, and I’ll stop hitting on him. You happy now?” And he turned to walk away. It all suddenly made sense to Sam.

“Wait, wait, wait, Dean,” he said, grabbing Dean’s elbow and not letting it go. He better make it fast as Dean is already too annoyed. Dean didn’t actually look him in the eye. “Dean. Look at me.”

Extremely reluctantly, making a whole show out of it, Dean lifted his eyes to meet Sam’s. Sam sighed.

“Jesus, Dean, you actually like him.”

“No, I don’t, the fuck you are talking about!” Dean hissed, turning around frantically to check that no one’s listening. It all suddenly reminded Sam of Junior High. “I’m not gay, Sam, shut the hell up!”

“Dean, a moment ago, you admitted you wanted to bang this dude, now you’re worried that I’ll think you’re gay?” Sam said incredulously.

“Well, I’m not! And I don’t give a crap about them all, I just want this shit to get over with.” Dean said, but Sam thought that it sounded strained even to Dean’s own ears. He rolled his eyes; he better leave Dean alone for now, nothing good will come out if he’d continue to push this unbelievably ridiculous conversation.

“Alright, Dean, you’re not,” Sam agreed finally.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing here!” Dean said, getting worked up. “You’re just saying that to shut me up!”

“No one’s shutting you up, Dean,” Sam sighed again; God was he exhausted. “Let’s go back or they’ll think we are plotting something against them or whatever.”

He started to walk back, and Dean joined him reluctantly, and walking a few steps behind him with the purpose to show Sam that he was still pissed. Jesus, what a child. Sam sometimes forgot he was the younger brother there.

But on seeing the wizards still staying next to the Impala, Sam tensed and stopped, spotting a new person. Dean bumped into him from behind.

“What now, Sam?” Dean asked behind his back, sounding extremely irritated.

“Who’s that?” Sam pointed to the addition to the group, a very blonde man standing very far apart from the rest of the wizards. He could hear shouting. Dean could hear it, too, apparently, because he started running towards the group like a crazy person. Sam followed him, his gun ready in his hand, just in case the blonde guy was not actually a wizard, but he supposed that was too much to ask.

“Oh, screw wands, I’m just gonna kick your stupid spoiled arse with my bare hands!” Ron was yelling, his wand pointed at the blonde man.

“Right, suits you just fine using those disgusting muggle ways to duel, suppose you took after you dear Mudblood wife?” The man said, drawling the words rather unpleasantly. His wand pointed right back at Ron. Sam and Dean just stood there in between the blond and the rest of the wizards, not sure what to do.

“Oh, I’m gonna KILL you, Malfoy!” Harry shouted his wand flying up to point right at man’s – Malfoy’s – face.

“Guys, please!” Hermione screamed desperately, but everyone ignored her. “Please, come down. This is not why we are all here!”

“Shut up, Granger!” Malfoy screamed back. “Potter here thinks he could take me in a duel. Still as arrogant as ever, I see. Too bad there’s no ol’ Dumbledore here to do all your work for you, Potter!”

“You fucking cunt!” Harry yelled, and his wand disappeared from his hand; instead he moved to Malfoy with his fists closed tightly, and Sam doubted he was going to need a wand anymore. “I’m gonna bloody kill you right now!”

Ron and Hermione both grabbed him, trying to make him stop. Harry struggled against them violently, his glare focused solely on Malfoy, as if no one else existed anymore.

“Come on, Potter, sink down to the Mudblood ways to fight. You must be natural, obviously, having a filthy Mudblood mother as an example, and by the way, I forgot what happened to her? Oh, that’s right, she got killed just –“

He didn’t finish, as all of a sudden, Dean was punching the guy’s face, just like that. Malfoy fell down, sprawled on the ground, and Dean just kept punching him.

“Get him off me!” Malfoy screamed, not even trying to fight back for some reason. “Get this filthy moron off me!”

Now Sam didn’t usually appreciate anyone but himself calling Dean a moron, but one look at Hermione’s pleading face told him he had to make Dean stop. Not really wishing to, he dragged his brother away from Malfoy, whose nose was badly bleeding and right eye was dark blue and purple.

Dean stood, rubbing the knuckles of his hand. Ron was looking at him with sick admiration, as if Dean had just personally took down a legion of armed soldiers.

“That was so cool, mate!” Ron announced, still eyeing Dean in awe. Sam thought Ron must not have had a lot of chances to have a physical fight with someone, having magical wands and all. He must be impressed very easily by the smallest demonstration of physical force and power.

“Thank you,” Dean said very modestly, “Now I’ve no damn idea what ‘Mudblood’ means, but something tells me – nothing too good, am I right?”

“You are, Dean,” Harry said, and there was something in the way he looked at Dean, that told Sam that his brother was not alone in his… ‘feelings’ or whatever.

“Sam, Dean,” Hermione said, obviously trying very hard to get the situation back under control. “Meet Draco Malfoy.”


End file.
